


Dog Years

by FrancescaMonterone



Series: Singularities Verse [3]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Academy Era, Asexual Character, Backstory, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Family, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Movies, Starfleet Academy, Starfleet politics, Tarsus IV, everybody has issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-06 01:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11026170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrancescaMonterone/pseuds/FrancescaMonterone
Summary: He looked up to find a cheerful-looking Jim Kirk standing next to him. In fact, he was practically bouncing, and looking at his happy exuberance, Leonard had to refrain from asking 'what drugs are you on, and can I have some?'"Guess what: I made Command track!""So I heard," he said, aiming for neutral."You did? Where?" Jim seemed genuinely surprised.Leonard rolled his eyes. It should have been obvious. "I'm dating your academic adviser. This is the second time today someone is gushing to me about your academic performance."





	1. Do No Harm

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back, I'm sorry I made you wait so long. Half of this chapter was written very late at night, so I apologize for any typos you may find. I'll try to go over it again as soon as I'm a bit more awake...
> 
> The list of courses offered at Starfleet Academy stems in part from Memory Alpha, and in part from my own imagination. If you have any other fun suggestions, let me know!

 

_July 2255_

 

Captain Enida Fuentes had spent her whole life fighting other people's misconceptions - mainly the idea that beautiful people are just that, _beautiful_ , and as such could and should be reduced to being objects of admiration, envy, and desire. God forbid somebody should ask if there was a brain behind those almond-shaped eyes, or a living, feeling, thinking entity beneath the smooth, honey-colored skin.

Some people - many people - found it difficult to even imagine that pretty little Enida wanted to be anything else but beautiful, and that by the age of twelve she had been sick and tired of being Daddy's little princess. When she looked in the mirror, Enida didn't see a princess. She saw a fighter. Somebody who got what she wanted, and if she had to get her hands dirty, her dress torn, and her knees bloodied to get it, then so be it. But people didn't respect her for that. All they saw was her beautiful face and graceful figure, and Enida hated them, and hated herself for that.

As a teenager and young adult, it was a constant uphill struggle. She cut her hair short - very short - banishing the luscious brown curls for good. It helped a little. There was only so much she could do about her skin-tone and figure - cover it up, mainly - and nothing she could do about her facial features, except wear a grim and sullen expression. Still, there were some people who declared her scowl to be 'cute'. Enida grit her teeth all the way through high school and three years of college, and then passed the entrance exam for Starfleet Academy and with a deep sigh donned the cadet reds and vanished into a crowd of peers.

It was an immense relief. Suddenly, she was one of many, all of them dressed in red, and the uniform appeared to be specifically designed to hide many of her attractive features. Suddenly, people didn't care much for her looks anymore, and instead focused on her skills, constantly questioning her, pushing her.

The misconceptions didn't _entirely_ vanish, of course. There was a young man in her class who taunted her for being _'no more than a pretty face'_. Enida decked him in their _Advanced Hand-to-Hand_ combat course, with the full approval of the instructor.

"That'll teach you to underestimate your opponent," the instructor said, helping the young man up.

After the Academy, Enida Fuentes was assigned to a patrol ship and quickly made a name for herself as an outstanding junior officer, dedicated, passionate, and quick to adapt. She rose through the ranks fast. When she returned to the Academy as _Captain_ Enida Fuentes, she took over the Academy's Command program, and with it charge for the brightest and best of Starfleet's cadets.

You didn't get into Command unless you were special, and you didn't make it through the brutal four year program unless you were a stubbornly tenacious workaholic driven by insane ambition and/or dedication. Many cadets chose the easier route, focusing on a major of their choice and working their way up through the ranks after graduation, until they reached a point where they felt either confident enough to apply for, or where invited to attend Command School, the Academy's postgraduate program for officers.

You had to be a little bit insane to enter Command track straightaway.

Incidentally, that was how Captain Fuentes liked her cadets. A little bit insane. Driven. Fighters.

And she liked Captain Pike, because he usually brought in the most interesting catches of any new class. Pike had a truffle pig's nose for the exceptional, the half-mad geniuses and brilliant misfits. The difficult cases, that sometimes brought you to tears, or to screaming fits of rage, but were always worth the trouble in the end. The instructor attrition rate was high, when it came to Pike's recruits.

"So," Enida said, as she planted herself into the chair across from him. His office was unembellished, but not impersonal, neutral colors, large windows, a couple of potted plants, no pictures, no trinkets. The chairs were comfortable, though, and there was always fresh coffee, which in Enida's mind was reason enough to frequently visit this particular office.

"So," she repeated, "Cadet Kirk."

From behind his desk, Pike gave her one of those sardonic half-smiles he did so well, the one that said _'I'm prepared for whatever you are going to say next'_.

"His test scores are impressive," she continued. "He's also a bit of an asshole."

Pike grinned at her. "Well, weren't we all, at that age?"

"Good point. But there's more to it in this case, right?"

The grin vanished. He stood up, walked around the desk and took the other chair.

"Look," she said, "I'm not saying it's an impediment to his entering Command track. I'd just like to know what I'm dealing with."

Pike pushed a cup of coffee towards her. "You are dealing with a boy who's spent his whole life in the shadow of a famous farther he never even met."

She nodded. "Chip on his shoulder, eh? What about the mother? Winona Kirk is a household name herself."

"They are not close, from all I can tell. Probably also due to George's shadow, but who knows. Maybe something else happened between them." He took a sip from his own cup. "He's going to be difficult."

It was her turn to grin now. "Don't I know that. Yours always are. And the fact that you've taken this one as an advisee tells me that you are expecting trouble. Maybe more than usual...?"

"Barnett pretty much _ordered_ me to take him," he confessed. "He's not happy."

Enida rolled her eyes. "When is Richard Barnett ever happy? It's not our job to make him happy. It's our job to seek out the best and the brightest and to push them through the Academy by any means necessary. We deal in raw diamonds, Chris. Of course they aren't flawless." She leaned back in her chair. "So this Kirk kid - say he'll get into a few brawls, maybe break a few bones. His, or those of others. He's got a mouth on him, and a bit too much attitude. So what, he's still brilliant. It's for you and me to channel his youthful bravado and enthusiasm into something useful."

"So you'll take him?"

She shrugged. "He passed all the tests, and with a pretty impressive score, I must say. We'll deal with his attitude problems as we go. If he turns out to be too much of a bother, I can always throw him out of the program. He'd do well in Tactical, maybe Navigation. He seems to have a mind for strategy. Of course, he's also terribly impulsive, but that's the age. He'll settle, eventually. They all do." She winked at him. "Even you did, Chris. Eventually."

He shook his head, the lop-sided smile returning to his face.

"Come on. Chris Pike, back on Earth - grounded, some would say - with a house and a kid... next thing we know, you'll get a dog and start playing golf with Barnett..."

"Barnett plays golf?"

She shrugged. "No idea. It would fit him, though. He's entirely _too_ settled for my taste."

She put a PADD down on the low glass table between them. "Have a look at this. Here's a list of suggested courses for Kirk's first semester. I'd strongly advice putting him in _Basic Hand-to-Hand_ , he needs to blow off some steam and I'd rather he did it in a controlled environment."

"Who's teaching that?"

"Captain Saïda Razek. She loves taking arrogant little Command cadets down a notch or two. I'd also advice to keep him away from Spock and Reed, for the time being. They teach several command courses, but they don't put up with shit from their cadets, and they both lack a sense of humor. If you don't want your protégé kicked out for insubordination, you'll keep him away from those two for as long as possible."

Pike acknowledged the advice with a nod.

"I also heard you arranged for him to room with Sulu? Good choice. He's a level-headed fellow, and he might be a calming influence on Kirk. They'll see a lot of each other, in any case, since Sulu's in Command as well."

"That was my hope," Pike said. "Between him, you, me and McCoy, we should be able to keep Jim out of the worst trouble."

"Who's McCoy?"

"His doctor and occasional babysitter." There was something more to it, to that amused and fond quirk of his lips, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Oh well. She trusted Pike to know what he was doing.

 

* * *

 

 

With a frustrated sigh, Leonard put down the PADD in his hand. Arranging your schedule really shouldn't have been this hard. After all, he only needed seven courses for the first semester, and four of those were pre-arranged; set for all Medical cadets alike. As promised, Dr. Boyce had also signed him up for _Trauma II_. All that remained was to choose one more course and his elective.

Just _two courses_. But maybe that was the issue.

The list of individual courses offered by Starfleet Academy was both impressive and slightly intimidating. It went on and on, page upon page filled with names, descriptions, details. Some courses were mandatory for all cadets, others only for certain majors. Many came at varying levels of difficulty, stacking up like building blocks. Some were what you would expect of a university that catered to Starfleet's unique needs: _Astrotheory, Starfleet History and Protocol, Inter-Species Protocol, Flight Control._

Others seemed oddly random, such as _Reproductive Medicine_ or _Turn-of-the-Millennium Technology_. Leonard tried not to imagine a scenario where the skills taught in _Elemental Veterinary Science_ would come in handy, but he had a sneaking suspicion that particular course might be linked somehow to Admiral Archer's infamous beagles.

Many course names aptly described what you could expect from integrating them into your schedule, but some left Leonard in doubt. He had only a vague idea of what might be the topic of _Intrasystem Peacekeeping Operations_ and no idea whatsoever regarding _Advanced Relativistic Mechanics,_ except that it sounded like something to avoid like all costs. On the other hand, he would have loved to sit in on the Command course named _Control and Self Control_. Presumably, that was where future captains learned to behave themselves.

The electives were even more interesting. _Political Theory. Art History. Ancient Philosophies._ Leonard's brows rose. In the end, he settled on _Dealing with Addiction_ , which seemed a safe bet and a good choice for any physician. Among the courses he would have to take at some point during his studies at the Academy was _Medical Mechanics_ , sensible enough, so he signed up for that as well.

Of his other four courses, one was the required _Starfleet History and Protocol_ taught by Admiral Barnett himself. After spending four days being lectured about rules and regulations and the Academy code of conduct by the man in question, Leonard could safely predict that he was _not_ going to enjoy listening to him for ninety minutes three times a week.

With another sigh, he sent his schedule off for review by his academic adviser - a formality, really, since he doubted that Boyce would find any fault with it.

"Hey, Bones!"

He looked up to find a cheerful-looking Jim Kirk standing next to him. In fact, he was practically bouncing, and looking at his happy exuberance, Leonard had to refrain from asking _'what drugs are you on, and can I have some?'_

"Jim," he acknowledged.

"Guess what: I made Command track!"

Why anyone would be happy to add an additional two classes, plus countless extracurricular but mandatory activities, and a thesis to their already busy schedule, only to sit through exams even more demanding than the regular Academy exams at the end of their four-year term, was beyond Leonard. And all for the privilege of writing mission reports, sitting through endless meetings, and being responsible when shit hit the fan out in the black. No thanks.

"So I heard," he said, aiming for neutral.

"You did? Where?" Jim seemed genuinely surprised.

Leonard rolled his eyes. It should have been obvious. "I'm dating your academic adviser. This is the second time today someone is gushing to me about your academic performance."

Predictably, that swelled Jim's chest with pride. Which, okay, maybe had been the point of the statement. It was hard not to reach over and pet him like the over-excited puppy he was.

"So what, you talk about me at the breakfast table?" Jim asked, grinning.

Leonard winced slightly. Jim was far too interested in his love life if you asked him, and he had no desire whatsoever to discuss the topic yet again. "Lunch. And the topic came up among other things. But for the record, he's quite pleased his little gamble seems to be paying off." Leonard raised his brows at the younger man. "What was that all about, by the way? Do you always make life-altering decisions when somebody challenges you to a duel?"

"It wasn't exactly swords or pistols at dawn, Bones," Jim protested. "But it seemed the right thing to do at the time, so..." He shrugged. "Besides, Pike can be very persuasive. But I'm sure you know that."

Leonard thought about voluntarily getting on a shuttle - thrice now! - for Chris, and was forced to agree. When he recounted the first time, that impromptu trip to Russia that had ended up with them saving Pavel from an uncertain fate in a correctional facility for youths, Jim laughed.

"Did you throw up on him?"

"Nah. But it was a close thing."

"I'm sure Pavel was grateful, though. By the way, did he pass?"

Leonard nodded. "Written and oral exams, and the physical. He was a bit scared of that one, because he's just a scrawny little kid compared to the other cadets, but I watched - he did well. And it might have helped that the instructor seems to be a little smitten with him. I suppose he _is_ rather adorable, jug-ears and all."

Jim nodded, eyes still smiling. "I've used that a few times. Works like a charm."

Leonard didn't doubt it. Jim was by now well out of the _'adorable'_ phase, but there was no denying his good looks, and it would have been surprising if he hadn't known how to use them to his advantage.

"How are you getting along with your new roommate?" He asked, changing topics. "Sulu, was it?"

Jim nodded. "He's okay. Bit on the quiet side. I get a feeling he's _very_ serious about his studies and will probably murder me if I interrupt him while studying, but other than that, he appears to be a decent guy. He's got a thing for plants, and he very politely asked me if he could keep a few on the windowsill. But he isn't a botany major. Command, like me."

"I suppose it's a hobby," Leonard said, thinking _like fencing._ But Jim hadn't mentioned that yet, and even if he were to discover it, he probably wouldn't come up with the idea that Chris had arranged for him to room with Sulu because of the other man's fencing skills.

Jim shrugged. "He's taking _Xenobiology_ as one of his electives. Sounds boring, if you ask me."

"What are yours?"

" _Stellar Cartography_ and _Remedial Physics_ , because Captain Fuentes suggested that my high school knowledge could use a touch up before I enter the more advanced courses. They apparently cover quite a bit of the basic science in _Astrosciences_ and _Astrotheory_ , and those two are mandatory, but I figured it couldn't hurt. Besides, if I have to sit through _Early Starfleet History_ and _Starfleet History and Protocol_ , it'll be nice to have something as clear-cut as physics to balance it out. Are you in _Basic Hand-to-Hand_?"

Leonard shook his head. "Not this semester. Too many medical courses. I think it'll come up next semester."

"Shame. I think that's going to be fun."

 _It's also the perfect setup for somebody trying to casually murder you_ , Leonard thought darkly, but he didn't say anything. Nevertheless, he made a mental note to ask Chris to keep a special eye on that course, and to maybe alert the instructor.

 

* * *

 

 

Leonard was in a meeting with Dr. Boyce - the first since their conversation about murder, suffering, and untimely burials, and as such more than a bit awkward - when the call happened.

Boyce interrupted his description of the delightful life and work of a starship's CMO (if Starfleet had ever heard of such a term as 'work-life balance', it had clearly been forgotten the moment the first ship left its docking bay) midway through a sentence.

"Excuse me, judging by the ringtone, this is one call I need to take."

He stood and walked across the cluttered room to the comm terminal. Leonard was too far away to hear the other end of the conversation, but it did sound interesting.

"Boyce."

-

"No, not really. What is the matter?"

-

"She - what? Why?"

-

"I see. And the boy?"

-

"That's good."

-

"You will do no such thing. No, no listen to me."

-

" _Listen._ I know you're angry, and you have every right to be, but you can't lose your head. It won't help anyone, and least of all the kid. Take an hour or two to calm down. Go have some ice cream or meditate, or whatever it is you do these days, now that you're not running around the galaxy and putting the fear of God into unsuspecting mercenaries and smugglers anymore..."

-

Boyce laughed. "No, you aren't. Okay. Once you're past the rage, file a formal complaint. Get his therapist to supply a formal statement. She'll confirm that this was way out of line."

-

"Yes, I'm certain of it."

-

"Why? Because I'll make sure of it. I hate bullies, you know that. That woman doesn't get to keep her job, not while I'm here. And I don't fucking care whose camp she's in. I have no patience for political maneuvering when it harms innocent bystanders."

-

"Will do. Take care."

-

Boyce lightly tapped the screen, putting it into standby mode, and turned around to face Leonard. His calm, amiable tone of just a moment ago was gone in an instant. He swore, his face a grimace of exasperation.

"He'll be the death of me, one of these days."

Leonard raised his brows. Interesting. Was Boyce seeing somebody, and had he just been listening to one end of an intimate argument? It had sounded like he was quite familiar with the other person, not like he was talking to a colleague or a student.

"Who?"

"Your _boyfriend_." Boyce replied, drawing out the second word. "I can't even begin to count the times I've had to stop him from rushing headlong into a confrontation. He's a decorated captain with three decades worth of experience under his belt, but when someone harms or threatens his people, he behaves like a blood-fevered Klingon." He shook his head.

"What happened?" Leonard asked sharply, sudden worry reaching its cold, clammy fingers down into his throat.

Boyce crossed the room and reclaimed his seat across from him. "Pavel, Chris' foster son was apparently scheduled for his entry psych eval this afternoon, and someone used his or her influence to ensure that he would get an unsympathetic examiner. Not everyone is happy with Chris' decision to bring a fourteen-year old boy into the Academy, and then there are some people who just have it in for him on principle. It's _politics_. San Francisco is full of people with malicious intent, scheming minds, and too much free time on their hands."

Leonard sucked in a breath through his teeth. It didn't sound too bad, but...

"What did they do?"

"His file is sealed for privacy, but the examiner would obviously be granted access, and she used it against him in a way that no conscientious practitioner should ever do. Brought up some things from his past, trauma and abandonment issues, and had a field day with them. Fucking shrinks, they know where to hit to make it hurt." Boyce shook his head. "So, little Pavel came out of that interview limp like a rag and crying his heart out, and now Chris wants to see blood. Preferably accompanied by some ripped-out guts, if I know him."

Well, if that was what Chris wanted, all Leonard could think was that he felt exactly the same way. Nobody had a right to hurt Pavel like that, simply to satisfy their petty desire to get back at Chris. Come to think of it, nobody had a right to hurt Chris, either, not if he had any say in the matter.

"Are we done here?" He felt a sudden protective need to go and find Chris.

Boyce saw right through him. "Not really, and I'm not sure you should go. He needs some time with Pavel."

Leonard was already a bit put out by the fact that Chris had called Boyce instead of him, and the insinuation that the older man knew better than he did not sit well with him.

"I was there when Chris took Pavel home from Russia," he said, looking right at Boyce and daring him to argue the point.

His academic adviser sighed. "I can't keep you."

Leonard took off.

 

* * *

 

 

He found them in the garden. An unhappy, strangely subdued Pavel was poking listlessly with a stick at dried old leaves in the pond, and Chris, thrumming with negative energy that he kept beneath the surface only for his boy's benefit.

"Phil told you," Chris said by way of greeting.

"Actually, I was with him when you called." He nodded towards Pavel and looked at his partner questioningly.

Chris shrugged. "I called Karima."

Which was probably a good idea. Chris had a good rapport with his foster son, and Pavel loved and trusted him, but this situation looked like it might need professional guidance.

They watched Pavel in silence for a little while longer.

"Are there any frogs?" Leonard asked.

Pavel barely looked up. "Not at this time of the year."

"That's a shame. We could have taken a picture and sent it to Jo. She said she wants to come and watch the frogs with you again."

Pavel didn't acknowledge the statement, maybe he had recognized it as the diversionary tactic it was.

After another tense moment, the doorbell rang, and Leonard rushed to let in Dr. Karima Favel, his former fellow student and now Pavel's therapist. She kissed his cheeks.

"Chris told you?" he asked.

Karima nodded. "Yes, and let me tell you, if he doesn't do something nasty to that bitch, I will. Pardon my language."

"I think he's got it covered. Come, they're outside in the garden."

Karima followed him outside.

"Thank you for coming immediately," Chris said.

"Of course." She stepped a little closer to Pavel. "Pasha," she said gently, "I hear you've been having a bad day. Would you like to tell me about it?"

Pavel looked up at her, quite still for a moment. Then he closed the distance between them, threw his arms around her and hid his face in the soft fabric of her sweater. Over his head, Karima gestured for Chris and Leonard to leave them alone, and they followed her lead.

"Tea," Leonard said, once they were inside. "And you look like you could use some chocolate." Chris had a bit of a sweet tooth, and Leonard was learning what to feed him when he was in a mood. He went to the kitchen and prepared two mugs of a herbal tea blend that had somehow made its way into Chris' cupboards and remained there, forgotten until Leonard had unearthed it. Chris accepted his mug wordlessly.

"Why would anyone want to willfully hurt Pavel?"

Chris looked up, his expression the perfect image of an approaching thunderstorm in the sky. "It wasn't about him. It was about _me_ , and I should probably have seen it coming. I just never expected that anyone would be so cruel as  to go through him. He's a _child!_ If anything, I thought they might try to give me grief for my relationship with you, Barnett said as much."

Leonard frowned. "You believe Admiral Barnett...?"

"No," Chris said sharply, shaking his head. "No, Barnett may not be my favorite person in the world, and he's definitely not happy with my recruitment choices this term, but he's straight as an arrow and a deals with his issues in a civilized manner. He would never stoop so low. No, it's somebody else."

"Any idea who?"

Chris leaned back, pushing the mug away with a sigh. "I've made enemies."

Leonard didn't doubt it. You didn't ascend to Chris' current position by making nice with everyone. And from what he had gathered in his short time at the Academy, there was a fair bit of political maneuvering going on within Starfleet.

Apparently, Chris was thinking along the same lines. "There have always been factions within Starfleet," he said. "There always were different opinions about almost everything we do, from deep space exploration, to the management of colonies, to our relations with other races. Usually, these factions gather either around a common goal or core belief, or around a charismatic figure - often both. At any given time you'll have two, three, five, sometimes as many as ten such groups and sub-groups, fighting for power  and influence.

Right now, there are four.

You have - predictably -a conservative faction that likes the status quo and seeks to defend it, resenting change and blocking innovation for fear of upsetting the balance and losing their well-established network of alliances. They don't have a leader, they are more of a club of people with a common understanding of what the world should look like. Barnett's a member of this club, and so is Nogura.

Then there is another faction, and people have taken to calling them _the moderates_ , or even _pacifists_. They have been around for quite a while, and they resent the militarization of Starfleet. They are firm believers in diplomacy, the Prime Directive, and peaceful exploration. They loosely group themselves around Admiral Westervliet, but have a lot of support across all ranks and divisions.

Admiral Marcus, and his influential circle of friends and sycophants lead yet another faction. An old friend of mine once called them _militant Darwinists_. As the name suggest, they believe in the survival of the fittest, and the conclusion they draw from that is that Starfleet has to be prepared for all eventualities - and armed to the teeth. Predictably, they are very unpopular among the moderates. But Marcus didn't become head of Starfleet by accident - he is a superb politician and masterful manipulator.

Last but not least, there's Archer's group. I guess you could call them the realists. They agree with the moderates on many key issues, but Archer himself has scraped past total disaster a few times too often to unconditionally believe in the peaceful coexistence of all worlds and species. Nevertheless, they see exploration as Starfleet's primary mission. Many of them are scientists, explorers. They get along with the moderates, less so with the conservatives. Occasionally, they have common ground with Marcus and his group."

There was really only one question to ask. "So, which camp are you in?"

Chris smiled a humorless smile, all teeth and no laughter. "Would you like to guess?"

Leonard didn't have to. "Archer. You aren't a hawk, but not a dove either. And given your fondness for breaking rules... well, the conservatives would never accept you into their ranks."

A nod confirmed his theory. "Which is a bit of a problem. Admiral Marcus brought me into Starfleet, and he - but more importantly some of his crew - believes he has a prior claim to me. Marcus himself doesn't bother me as long as I don't cross him too often, although I do believe he's a bit disappointed... but some of the others, well, that's a different story. There's a lot of scheming going on, people are already angling to get in line as Marcus' successor. The conservatives are pushing Nogura, and I suppose we could live with him, although he wouldn't be _my_ first choice."

"But why would anybody want to hurt you personally?"

"Because I'm trying to bridge the gap between Archer's group and the conservatives, to keep the lines of communication open. Admiral Reed is doing the same thing, but he is untouchable, unless you want to find yourself on the wrong end of something deadly and sophisticated that will definitely kill you. Reed doesn't play nice. There's a reason they have him teaching the Weapon Systems courses. That, and my personal connection to Admiral Marcus makes some people uneasy. They are afraid that he might grow mellow and groom me to be his successor." Chris snorted. "They obviously don't know him very well."

Leonard took a large gulp of tea as he processed that information. Starfleet politics were a lot more convoluted than he had assumed.

"It's a low blow, to hurt a boy just to rattle you. And an ethics code violation on top of that. _Do no harm_. Starfleet or not, whoever examined Pavel is a member of Medical, and they should feel bound to that. It's written right above the fucking door, for God's sake!"

Chris nodded grimly. "Yes. We are looking for a person with no moral conscience and a petty mind."

"Wonderful," Leonard complained, "there's an assassin after Jim Kirk, and now somebody is trying to bully you through Pavel. What's next?"

"You are," Chris said, perfectly serious and looking straight at him. "It's only logical to assume that they'll try to take a stab at you, or to use or relationship against me next."

Leonard bared his teeth. "Let them come. I'm no helpless child."

Chris flashed him a brief smile, and this time, it was genuine. "You aren't," he agreed. "And I'm getting backup. It's time to rally the troops."


	2. Out of the Blue

 

Admiral Jonathan Archer was the oldest and longest serving member of Starfleet - by virtue of having survived everybody else.

Life expectancy had risen considerably in the past century or so, but 142 - almost 143 - was still a truly biblical age for a human being, and Archer carried it well. While his body had grown rather frail, and he certainly wouldn't run or fight anymore, his mind was as sharp as ever. Case in point: he taught an advanced engineering course for the mere fun of it.

He took an active interest in all comings and goings at the Academy and in current Starfleet politics; and regarded himself as a sort of kindly uncle to the younger generation - and attitude that extended well beyond the corps of cadets and to seasoned officers like Christopher Pike. It was a bit annoying at times, but Archer meant well, and you couldn't really fault him for it. The man had seen too many people come and go over the years.

Chris visited Archer in his modest house off campus two days after Pavel's disastrous psych eval and was welcomed with open arms (and a lick of his shoes, courtesy of Archer's Beagle). The day was sunny and they sat outside on the porch while Chris recounted what had happened. Predictably, Archer was both offended on his behalf and outraged at the examiner's conduct.

"You filed a formal complaint?" he asked, stirring a spoonful of sugar into his tea with enough force to make the liquid spill over the rim of the cup. Archer cursed under his breath and set the cup aside.

Chris nodded. "Yes. She has been suspended from her duties, pending investigation."

"That's the least Medical could do in such a case," Archer said, frowning. "Any ideas as to who might have been the instigator?"

"Ideas, yes. But no proof. Admiral Komack was openly hostile during the Board meeting on Pavel's admission and he's trying to style himself as Alexander Marcus' right hand... it might be him. Or not. There are a number of people who don't really like me much."

"Hum." Archer took a thoughtful sip of tea, absentmindedly petting the dog that sat next to his chair. Like all of Archer's dogs, it was a Beagle - the ninth in a row of similar quadrupeds all named Porthos. Porthos IX was about four to five years old if Chris remembered correctly and thus potentially Archer's last dog.

"I suppose I'll have a word with Barnett," Archer said. "About your boy - but also about who might be behind this. Very few things that happen at and around the Academy escape Barnett's notice, and he may be a dreadful bore, but he's a good man."

Chris shrugged. "Better you than me. Barnett isn't exactly my biggest fan right now. He thinks bringing Jim Kirk back into the fold was a criminally reckless idea. If it wasn't so obvious that he's genuinely worried about the kid's safety, I'd accuse him of simply not wanting to be reminded of Starfleet's mess-ups."

"Ah," there was a sudden gleam to Archer's eyes, and he leaned forward, "Jim Kirk. Your prodigal son."

"Not my son, Jon." Chris rolled his eyes. Archer liked to tease him about the rampant rumors surrounding his relationship with the Kirk family.

"He might as well be." Archer shrugged. "How's he doing so far?"

"Nobody has tried to kill him yet," Chris deadpanned.

"You like living on the dangerous side, don't you, Chris?" The old man shook his head. "But for what it's worth, I trust your instincts. If you say the Kirk kid should be in Starfleet, I trust you have your own good reasons, and that you'll keep him safe." He poured Chris some more tea and when he looked back up, his expression was mischievous. "Now, speaking of scandalous rumors - I hear you're dating again. And a Medical cadet, no less." The raised brows looked _very_ Vulcan and Chris had to remind himself that Archer had spent the most important years of his career with a Vulcan first officer by his side.

"Not one of _my_ cadets," he clarified. "And while he's definitely too  young - I'm not even going to argue that - he is already a fully trained doctor."

Archer chuckled. "Oh, Chris. _Another_ doctor?"

"What?" Chris asked defensively.

"Is this Boyce 2.0? Because _that_ was painful to watch and I don't want you to get hurt again." Archer's concern shone through his amusement, and it was genuine.

Chris shook his head. "It's not. They are very different people. It's early days, but I believe it could work. There's love, and there's trust, and commitment. What else do you need?" It had sounded better in his mind than it did out loud.

" _Love_ was never your problem with Philip Boyce," Archer pointed out with the unsparing wisdom of age.

"True," Chris admitted with a slightly bitter feeling somewhere between his heart and his lips, "we had vastly differing notions of what an intimate relationship should entail. That's not an issue with Leonard, though."

"Is he asexual as well?"

"Why am I being grilled about my love life like a teenager?" Chris asked, only mildly put out. He knew that his friend meant well. "And for the record, no. He's straight, I guess." They hadn't exactly discussed terminology, but from what Leonard had told him, Chris assumed that this was how he would have described himself.

Archer stared at him for a moment, opened his mouth, thought better of it and closed it again to consider. After a while, he sighed. "Well, I suppose we can't none of us be perfect. You're one of the best officers I've ever met, Chris, and like most of the others of that rare breed - myself included - you suck at relationships."

"Hey!" Chris protested. "It's not that bad."

"Hum." Archer returned to petting the Beagle, and for a couple of minutes both men were silent. Chris reflected on the fact that his relationship with Leonard _had_ to seem strange to most people. But... it worked. And he didn't have enough words to express how glad it made him.

After some time, Archer added thoughtfully and with a slight hesitation to his voice: "You know, in that case you should probably talk to Malcolm."

"Yeah, right." Chris snorted, because you didn't need to be a genius to see how _that_ particular conversation would pan out. "I do not have a death wish. He'd murder me with an unlicensed prototype phaser and send my body to Jupiter, strapped to some fancy new torpedo. No, thanks."

Archer chuckled again. "Probably. Of the lot of us, Malcolm is the literal worst at relationships. But we still love him."

"Speak for yourself. I prefer to approach Admiral Reed with respect and a six foot safety distance." _And I certainly won't be discussing my love life with him, or - even worse - his!_

"Rubbish," Archer said, his tone of voice fond. "Even Malcolm is growing a bit mellow in his old age. That, and he likes you. Said you reminded him of me in my glory days, and while that may sound like an insult to you, it's actually a compliment." He grinned.

Chris thought to himself that if Admiral Malcolm Reed really did like him, he was very good at not letting it show. On the other hand, he had to admit that he had never found himself at the other end of a patented Reed death glare, and occasionally got a civil greeting when they passed each other on campus, and that alone probably elevated him above the general population by a fair bit. Admiral Reed was famously misanthropic. Nevertheless, he was a good teacher. Starfleet's best armory officers had passed through his classroom.

"Respectfully, sir, I believe I'll handle my personal relationships without further input from meddling admirals," he said, and it earned him a broad grin.

"You are taking _all_ the fun out of our lives. There isn't much to entertain anymore once you've joined the illustrious and somewhat dusty ranks of the Admiralty. Political intrigue can only do so much to keep us distracted."

"I couldn't possibly express how sorry I feel for you all," Chris said straight-faced, but in a very dry voice.

 

* * *

 

 

Meddling admirals aside, the start of the new semester seemed rather promising. His cadets were settling in and hadn't caused any major trouble yet; or at the very least not the sort of trouble that brought irate instructors, hysteric family members, or Admiral Barnett to his office. Still, Chris knew from past experience that it paid to be vigilant and to stay one step ahead of the kids.

He had already sorted them into categories of _likely to run into trouble, unlikely to run into trouble,_ and _oh God, what was I thinking?_

Jim Kirk was wobbling on the edge of categories one and three and could tip either way at the slightest provocation. On the pro side, nobody had tried to kill him (yet), and Captain Fuentes had indeed accepted him into Command training. He was obviously proud of that - the boy wasn't just stubborn, but also ambitious as Chris had discovered to his great satisfaction. Jim seemed to get along with his roommate, and with most of his classmates, though campus rumor was that he hit on anything with a pulse. But since no claims of misconduct or harassment had been made as of yet; Chris decided to cut him some slack. After all, it had to be something of a nuisance to be attracted to almost _everybody_.

He had set up bi-weekly meetings with Jim, more frequent than with most of his other advisees, but then, Jim's circumstances were certainly unique. So far, he hadn't rebelled against the special treatment, but Chris assumed it was only a matter of time before he would.

They were coming to the end of one of their meetings, the conversation winding down to small talk:

"So," Jim asked suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to him (and maybe that was the case, but somehow, Chris doubted it); "what's the deal with you and Bones?"

"Bones?" Chris frowned.

"Dr. McCoy. It's an inside joke. Only, he doesn't seem to think it's funny... but then, he's always a bit grumpy. Anyway - I mean, not that I'm complaining, he's the best doctor I've had so far. He just does what's absolutely necessary with a minimum of fuss and stupid questions. I guess you could even say that we're friends, sort of...? Only, I hardly ever see him outside of class. And something tells me that he's spending a fair amount of the extra time with you, but he's very evasive on the subject. So, what's the deal? Is he another one of your s _pecial cases_ , like Gaila and I?"

Chris examined his words and expression for a hidden meaning or agenda, but found none on the surface. He seemed genuinely interested, maybe even concerned, but there was no hint of mockery or disapproval.

_Leonard seems to like him. Maybe the feeling is mutual._

"Is he _special_?" he echoed, giving Jim a brief smile. _You have no idea._ "Leonard McCoy is one of the best trauma surgeons to ever join Starfleet. Half of Medical called to congratulate me when he signed up, and I'm guessing the other half is seething with jealousy. So yes, I'd say he's pretty special."

For some reason, Jim was still looking at him expectantly. Chris sighed inwardly. The kid was too smart and too curious for his own good.

"As for our personal relationship, that's none of your business." Why was everybody, from Barnett to Archer to Jim making an issue of that? All he needed was for Phil to lecture him about it... there was a reason Chris had studiously avoided his old friend outside of professional meetings for the last few weeks.

"Fair enough," Jim said with a shrug. "But I care about him. He's a good man, right? And from what little he told me, and the circumstances of our first meeting, I gathered that he's none too happy at the moment. His divorce must have been pretty nasty, and he doesn't really want to be in Starfleet."

Jim looked at him for a moment, clear blue eyes focused intently on his face. It was an uncomfortable gaze. Chris fought the urge to look away.

"People get hurt worst by those they trust," Jim finally said quietly.

Chris stared at him, utterly taken aback by this statement. It revealed a lot about Jim, but it also came completely out of the blue... at least for him. "Your mind works in strange ways, kid," he finally huffed. "Is this your way of telling me not to break his heart?"

Jim looked slightly embarrassed. "I suppose it isn't really my place, but it only seemed fair."

"Huh. Okay. Well, if it helps you sleep at night, I care very much about Leonard."

This is was surreal.

Jim nodded slowly. "It's just... well, I already said I like him. Aside from Nyota Uhura, he's the only one who doesn't care that I am the goddamn Kelvin Baby and who treats me like a normal person."

" _I_ treat you like a normal person," Chris protested.

"No," Jim disagreed, shaking his head, "I haven't quite figured out what your angle is, but you act like you have something to prove - whether it's to me, to yourself, or to the world at large, I don't know, but you have high stakes in this. It feels like I'm your personal mission. And really, I'm flattered, but it's also a bit - uh... weird? Because I hardly know you, but you seem to know me, or at least you seem to think you do."

"I apologize if I have made you uncomfortable," Chris said gravely. "That was never my intention. I genuinely meant to treat you as just another cadet, because I know how much you resent the Kelvin Baby halo, but I guess you're right, I'm just too involved in this."

"Why?" Jim asked. "Is it just because of the challenge?" He smiled wryly, and there was a good deal of self-depreciation in his expression. "I know who I am, captain. You'll probably curse me to the deepest pits of hell before the end of my first year... if I even make it that far."

"Probably," Chris conceded. "You're very entertaining, though." He flashed Jim a brief grin, the young man deserved some reassurance. "I'm not in it for the challenge," he then admitted.

"Sam told you that I've been looking for you for a while, right?"

"He mentioned something. Why? Is Starfleet really _that_ desperate for publicity?"

Chris snorted. "Hardly. But it was never about Starfleet. Quite the opposite, really. Now, you may meet some people who'll tell you that you owe Starfleet something, Jim, that it's your destiny or something, but from where I stand, it's the other way around. Starfleet owes _you_. And you should never let them forget that."

Jim frowned. "Okay... that's a bit odd, coming from you."

Moment of truth...

"Jim." Chris leaned forward. "I realize you're not exactly on good terms with your mother and you probably don't like to dwell on the past, given all the bad stuff that happened, but if you care to look back a bit, you'll find that we have met before. Several times, actually.

Your parents were my friends.

Winona and I fell out of touch after she remarried, but I visited her - and you - regularly before that." He deliberately refrained from mentioning their later encounter on Tarsus IV.

Once again, Jim was studying him with a worrying amount of concentration, but then he shrugged. "I heard a few things," he said cautiously, almost apologetically. "People talk."

Chris nodded. "Don't believe anything you hear. Those rumors are pretty colorful. The truth is a lot simpler. I met your mother at the Academy, and your father through her; we became friends, and I was very upset when your father died. I tried to take care of Winona, but there was very little I could do - too little." He sighed. It was one failure he could not forgive himself. But he wasn't George, and that was what it came down to in the end.

Jim, after looking off into the distance for a moment, met his gaze once more. "Why were you looking for me?"

Well, shit.

He opted for honesty. "Because I lost you. Somewhere along the way, I lost you."

Something passed across Jim's eyes, a shadow, or maybe a flash of recognition. "You were _there_ ," he whispered.

"On Tarsus IV?" Chris asked, fighting to keep his emotions out of his voice.

Jim nodded and swallowed hard.

Chris nodded slowly. "Yes. My ship was part of the relief effort." He paused. "Do you remember?"

Jim briefly closed his eyes. "I don't want to."

Chris reached across the table and put a hand on his shoulder. "That's fine. I understand."

He watched Jim fight with the memories, or maybe it was tears. It was a silent fight, but it played out on his face. In the end, his expression settled on stubborn determination.

Chris kept his thoughts to himself.

"So... that's it. We met before; and I was looking for you because I felt that I had to. And despite everything that's happened, I am very glad to have found you. Try not to disappear on me again, okay? The last two times were bad enough."

Jim's smile was decidedly watery. "No promises."

 

* * *

 

 

As Head of Recruitment, Chris had been assigned an office on the second floor of the Academy's main administrative building, between the office of Admiral Barnett's deputy, Captain Rhodope Ariatsu, and the offices of the head of the Academy's language program and her staff.

On his way there, Leonard reflected on the formation of habits.

He had been at the Academy barely long enough to develop a sense of direction when traveling on campus; and his new quarters still felt as unfamiliar and impersonal as the long corridors - and yet there was already a ritual in place that found him making his way towards Chris' office every day at lunchtime.

Since most cadets and staff had both early mornings and long days, the lunch break was generously measured: 90 minutes to be spent eating, dozing, playing sports or studying.

By unspoken agreement, Leonard and Chris had designated it shared time. They were still negotiating the terms of their relationship, carefully walking on eggshells, and seeing each other every day at lunch seemed a precious luxury.

Academy grapevine, obviously, had spread the story around. But since there was nothing particularly scandalous about it - as Chris had rightly pointed out, they weren't violating any rules or regulations - it was mostly only registered in passing, a curious bit of trivia.

Chris was preoccupied, still. You could see it in the lines of his face, but he seemed more cheerful than in the days before; so Leonard guessed that some of his efforts on Pavel's behalf had borne fruit.

They did not yet have a ritualized greeting, no hugs or kisses on the cheeks, but Chris' eyes lit up when he stepped into the room and that was all Leonard needed to see to know he was welcome.

"Good news?" he asked.

"What gave it away?" Chris smiled. "But yes, I just got a call from Admiral Barnett: Pavel has been accepted into the Academy - with some stipulations." He looked - happy wasn't quite the word, but definitely relieved. Leonard understood. It would have been a crushing disappointment to Pavel if he had not been admitted.

"That _is_ good news. What changed his mind?"

"I'm not sure he was ever against it in the first place," Chris said. "Just cautious, but he always it. Admiral Archer paid him a visit, though, and Barnett may be a stuffy bore, but he respects Archer. We all do. Besides, he can't stand it when somebody tries to mess with _the way things are supposed to be_." Chris sounded amused.

Leonard raised his brows at him. "That's what you meant by 'rallying the troops'? You have Admiral Archer on speed dial? I'm impressed. The man is a legend."

"He's a friend," Chris replied modestly.

"Well, it's good to have friends in high places," Leonard conceded. "What about the examiner? You filed that formal complaint, right?"

"Yes, and one supported by Karima and by Philip Boyce. As Pavel's therapist and primary physician, they had a few choice words to add." Leonard, who knew both of the personally, did not doubt it.

"Sounds promising."

Chris hummed in agreement.

So Pavel was all settled, then. Good.

Which left -

"How's Jim Kirk doing so far?"

"I haven't heard any complaints yet - which, admittedly, is slightly suspicious. There's a certain amount of curiosity about him, but so far, it all seems harmless."

Probably the best they could hope for. _At least, nobody's tried to murder him so far_ , Leonard thought with a certain amount of cynicism. In a way, he liked Jim Kirk. He admired the younger man's tenaciousness and unquenchable optimism, especially given what he knew of his personal history. And considering how he had ended up in Starfleet - by accident and Chris' benevolent emotional blackmail - he seemed surprisingly enthusiastic about the whole thing. It was refreshing, even if Leonard himself felt far less enthusiasm.

Maybe Chris was thinking along similar lines, or maybe he had arrived at the topic on an entirely different train of thought, in any case he asked: "How about you? Are you settling in?"

 _Surprisingly so_ , Leonard thought. _I have a partner, a schedule, apparently friends (?), and God help me, maybe even a purpose._

He shrugged. "It's not as bad as I imagined," he admitted grudgingly. "All the regulations lectures and the praises sung to Starfleet's heroes and their battles are a bit over the top and annoying; but at least I'm not the only one who feels that way."

" _Every_ cadet feels that way," Chris assured him. "Think of it as a test of endurance. In my opinion, that's really what it is, even though Barnett would violently disagree and probably lecture me on the importance of rules... again." He gave a wry smile. "I remember falling asleep in _Early Starfleet History._ Twice. The second time, I was caught and had to write a long, boring essay on a topic I've entirely forgotten since..." His grin turned boyish at the memory and Leonard loved him for it.

"I'm actually looking forward to the medical courses," he offered, because he felt the need to say something nice and reassure Chris. It was true, too. He was looking forward to seeing more of Starfleet Medical and meeting people whose papers he had read and admired in scientific journals. It was, after all, the most sophisticated hospital on Earth, and Leonard had a passion for medicine that went far beyond a mere job.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy them more than the standard classes they make everyone sit through," Chris said, sounding vaguely hopeful. It was heartbreaking to see how badly he wanted Leonard to come to terms with his rushed decision to join Starfleet.

"And if you find that you don't, and that you'd rather go back to Atlanta... just say so. I'll help you. This isn't a one-way road. You have a choice. You always have a choice."

What it must cost him to offer that...! And it was a heartfelt offer, too.

Leonard stepped closer, putting a hand on Chris' shoulder and the other on his arm. "You're wonderful, you know that?" he said quietly and leaned forward to kiss Chris briefly, chastely on the lips.

The answering smile was half happiness, half disbelieving _how could I be so lucky?_

 _You and me both,_ Leonard thought.

"So are you," Chris said warmly. "And in case it isn't perfectly obvious: I'd much rather have you here and keep you here."

"I never would have guessed," Leonard teased.

Chris brought one hand up to cup his cheek, warm and gentle. Leonard leaned in again, for a shared breath, another kiss.

... Of course, Admiral Malcolm Reed chose that very moment to walk into the room unannounced.

To their credit, neither Chris nor Leonard jumped when the Admiral made his presence known with a soft cough. They briefly froze, reading identical expressions of 'oh shit' on each other's faces, then Chris leaned his head against Leonard's with a resigned sigh. "Why does that keep happening to us?" he muttered.

"The universe hates us?" Leonard suggested.

"Must be the case," Chris agreed, pulling back and turning to face the music. Leonard turned with him.

The man who had walked into the room was old, very old, but he held himself rigidly upright, a soldier's pose, not a bureaucrat's. His eyes were sharp and curious, and the faint smile on his lips did not reach them. Was it even a smile? Leonard wasn't sure. In any case, he didn't look surprised, or embarrassed.

"In my defense, I _did_ knock," he said, sounding more amused than anything else. "But you probably were a little distracted. You should request a personal yeoman. Or let Jon set you up with a guard dog, he'd love that."

"Sir," Chris acknowledged him with a nod, not bothering with the comment. He seemed... fidgety?

"Introductions?" Leonard mouthed at him.

"Right... Admiral Malcolm Reed, Dr. Leonard McCoy."

"I should hope so," Reed quipped, eyeing Leonard speculatively. "So. I suppose Jon already covered all the inappropriate comments one could possibly make at this point, so I'll skip right over that. It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. McCoy.

Now, let's get to business." He turned to look at Chris. "Barnett suggested that somebody has it in for you, and by extension your foster son, Pavel Chekov. And potentially the Kirk kid, the nice young doctor over there, and whoever else your personal circle currently includes. I may have mentioned to him that paranoia is more my area of expertise and that he should go back to rules and regulations, but since Jon is already involved and he absolutely won't shut up about the matter, I've decided to join the party and accept Pavel as my advisee."

Chris looked surprisingly unhappy to hear that, in fact his expression was one of outright alarm before he hid it behind a carefully crafted blank mask. Leonard's eyes darted from one to the other; he was not quite sure what to make of this.

"Thank you, sir." Chris finally said, and Reed waved at the door, calling "Step inside."

Somewhat timidly, Pavel slipped past him and into the room, but his expression brightened when he saw Chris and Leonard.

"Pasha," Chris said, with a smile that looked forced. "Congratulations. You just landed the scariest Admiral in the 'Fleet as your academic adviser." And, as an aside to Reed: "I should probably remind you that he's a minor, so you won't let him play with any dangerous weapons without parental consent, right?"

Reed's face remained impassive. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Oh, dear Lord...!" Chris rolled his eyes. "I guess I have Jon to thank for this."

Pavel was eyeing the Admiral with unabashed curiosity that did not bode well for Chris' peace of mind.

They were all saved a truly awkward moment by Captain Enida Fuentes, who came in search of coffee... apparently a well established habit. Instead, she found an Admiral she had not expected and the noise she made sounded suspiciously like an undignified yelp. She covered it quickly.

Leonard raised his eyebrows at Reed. "Is there a reason everyone seems terrified of you? Two decorated captains... awe I'd understand, but this? Do you terrorize Starfleet officers in your spare time?"

Reed looked a little smug. "Nonsense," he huffed. "I'm not even that scary."

Captain Fuentes snorted. "Oh, you're a regular pussycat, sir." She looked at Leonard. "Don't believe him. We're all in awe of Archer; Barnett, Nogura and Westervliet annoy us, Komack's an ass and nobody really takes Nurmi for full... but him and Marcus? They're scary."

"I didn't think you were scared of anything, captain," Reed said to her, sounding amused. "You certainly weren't when I trained you."

"With age comes wisdom, I suppose." But she grinned, and Leonard guessed that she was teasing. Apparently, they knew each other rather well... which made sense, if Reed had trained her.

"Chris, I need coffee," Captain Fuentes complained.

"Well, we might as well. I didn't expect such a large party, but there are chocolate cookies. Help yourself."

"You just said the magic word!" She blew him a kiss, and he laughed. "Saving my day again, Chris. My hero."

"She's flirting with you," Leonard noted, admittedly a little surprised, "should I be concerned?"

Chris made a show of looking from him to the beautiful copper skinned captain (who was now digging through a tin of cookies). "I wouldn't mind a little jealousy..." he teased.

"Don't worry, I'm not his type," Captain Fuentes said between two mouthful. "And I'm only here for the candy. Well - and the coffee." She looked up, suddenly realizing: "You're the boyfriend."

"Partner," Leonard said mildly. " _Boyfriends_ would be more Pavel's age group."

"I don't have a boyfriend," Pavel protested, turning beet red.

"Good to know," Chris said. "Although I didn't even know that was an option... anything else you'd like to tell me?"

Pavel pulled a face. "Great. We're _so_ not having this conversation in front of them."

"Oh, don't mind us." Admiral Reed took a seat and a cup of coffee. Captain Fuentes slid into the seat beside him, taking her coffee and the cookies with her, but she generously offered one to Pavel, who looked at it dubiously for a moment, but took it after all.

Leonard sat on the edge of Chris' desk and took the cup offered to him. Behind him, Chris gave a soft sigh. Obviously, this wasn't how he had imagined his lunch break. Leonard looked over the shoulder to give him a sympathetic smile and eye roll. _Yeah, me neither._

The situation wasn't exactly improved by the arrival of yet another captain.

Leonard knew Captain Saïda Razek from the introductory classes she taught together with Admiral Barnett. She was vastly more popular among the cadets than her boss; a stout, energetic woman in her late forties, and a supremely capable officer and commander, if the stories told about her in the hallways and classrooms were true.

However, Chris had also mentioned that she was on Admiral Komack's team... and Komack had been violently opposed to Pavel's admission into the Academy. Chris hadn't voiced the thought, but it was clear that he suspected the Admiral might be behind the disastrous psych eval.

"Christopher," Razek said, barreling into the room without noticing that it was rather crowded with visitors already, "I hear you're stirring up trouble again." Her eyes fell on Pavel, who still stood in front of the desk and therefore right in her line of sight. "Oh, is that you're boy? He's _adorable_."

Captain Fuentes very obviously rolled her eyes, mouthing: 'Does she realize she sounds like a mindless idiot?'

Razek leaned forwards, maybe to pinch Pavel's cheek or something similarly demeaning, but Pavel wisely flinched back and hid behind Leonard, who stood and crossed his arms. It stopped Captain Razek in her tracks. "And you are?"

"Dr. Leonard McCoy."

Her eyes flicked from him to Chris. "Oh," she said, "right."

It didn't sound particularly friendly.

"Saïda, what can I do for you?" Chris asked mildly. "Anything you need?"

"No, I'm really just passing through, and wanted to check on you." She continued to look at Pavel.

The statement was such an obvious lie that Leonard wondered why she had even bothered. But maybe she was simply a really bad actress and didn't even realize it.

"How old are you, sweetie?" Captain Razek asked Pavel, who in turn looked at her incredulously. He glanced at Leonard. _Is she for real?_

Leonard carefully suppressed a grin and shrugged.

"Fourteen," Pavel said, "fifteen soon."

"Cute," Razek replied, with an accusatory look in Chris' direction. "Okay, this is a really bad idea. They'll eat him alive."

"Who? The giant ravenous monsters we keep in the bioengineering labs?" Captain Fuentes asked sarcastically. "Come off it, Saïda, this is the Academy, not a Klingon outpost. Besides, Barnett signed off on it, and it's his decision."

"The other cadets," Razek said sharply, "you know how they can be..."

"Speak for yourself, I've got my lot under control."

"Oh, _sure_. The cadets, the instructors... he's just a kid. And this is a shark tank."

 _Said one of the sharks,_ Leonard thought disgustedly. Pavel was gripping the edge of the desk, his knuckles going white.

"You can't protect him, Chris," Razek said, sounding gleeful rather than concerned. "He doesn't even have an adviser yet, does he?" The _nobody wants that kind of trouble_ was rather heavily implied.

Chris smiled serenely at her, obviously fighting not to look overly smug. "Oh, that's alright, I believe we have it covered... Admiral Reed graciously agreed to mentor him."

From his corner, Reed waved at her with a shark's smile that was very unpleasant to look at. She visibly recoiled.

"Is that so?" She asked, but she sounded less sure. "Well." She pulled herself back together. "In that case, I look forward to seeing you in my hand-to-hand classes soon, Pavel."

It was a threat, and not even a veiled one. Captain Fuentes frowned, Chris opened his mouth to protest, but Leonard cut them both off before the situation could escalate further. "I am afraid you'll have to wait a bit," he said, keeping his words and his expression neutral. "Given his young age, Dr. Boyce as Pavel's primary physician stipulated that he isn't to participate in any combat classes or physical trainings for the time being. He was rather adamant about that."

Captain Razek pursed her lips, but whatever retort had been on the tip of her tongue was swallowed when she finally realized that she was faced with a united front. "Well," she said again. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"You do that," Captain Fuentes said, and got up to close the door behind her... rather more forcefully than necessary.

"What the hell was _that_?" Leonard asked, turning to Chris. "She can't just randomly walk into rooms and threaten people, can she?"

"I'm surprised she even tried," Chris said, obviously baffled himself. "She and I certainly aren't friends, but that..." He went to Pavel and put a hand on his shoulder. "Pasha, I'm really sorry about that. She was out of line. If she ever approaches you again, come to me immediately, okay?"

Pavel nodded. "What's her problem?"

Chris shook his head. "I'm not sure, but she doesn't get to threaten you, and I won't let her hurt you."

"I know."

"She's one of Marcus's pets, and apparently that's gone to her head," Captain Fuentes said with a grimace of disgust. "Still. That was bad."

"Did Phil really say anything about the combat classes?" Chris asked Leonard.

Leonard shrugged. "I can almost guarantee he will. It's rather obvious. Especially with Captain Razek threatening Pavel now."

"I hate to say it, but it seems Barnett was right," Chris said. "That was strike two against Pavel. And I'm growing really tired of people attacking my family." He looked down at Pavel.

"You make it sound like a conspiracy," Leonard said, frowning.

"I'd be surprised if it wasn't."

"What a cheery thought," Leonard muttered.

Chris looked at Reed. "Will you tell Jon?"

"I don't see how I could avoid it," Reed responded drily. "Threats and conspiracies at the Academy and against his people? I'd never hear the end of it, if I neglected to mention something like that." He got up. "Thank you for coffee. Pavel, I will see you in my office Monday morning at 0800."

He nodded at them, then turned and left.

Pavel tugged at Chris' uniform sleeve, grinning ear-to-ear. "Admiral _Malcolm Reed_ is my academic adviser."

"Yes..."

"That's awesome... in a slightly terrifying way." But he didn't look particularly scared to Leonard. More excited, actually.

Captain Fuentes laughed. "He's a hard ass and a bit abrupt at times, but don't let it get to you. He's a really good teacher and he's fair. He doesn't tolerate bullshit, but he respects hard work and commitment, and he has an open ear for creative ideas. You're in good hands."

 


	3. Great Expectations

 

_October 2255_

 

"... so remember when I said I couldn't believe why anyone would take Xenobiology as an elective? I've got it now. I _know_ why Sulu is so engrossed in that particular course." Dramatic pause. "It's the postgrad who supervises the lab!"

Three months into their stay at the Academy, and so far, nobody had tried to murder Jim Kirk. But there were days when Leonard actually wished somebody would try - and succeed. "Jim, I'm trying to study here."

"I just _knew_ it had to be something like that!" Jim continued triumphantly. "And okay, I'll hand it to him, he's go taste. She's hot. Like, really, really hot. Blond, tall, great figure. Smart, too, apparently, or she wouldn't be teaching at her age..."

"Jim, Sulu's gay," Nyota Uhura cut in, looking up from her PADD and taking her headphones out of her ears. Apparently, she had come to the sensible conclusion that it was no use attempting to study while Jim Kirk was around.

"...what?" Jim looked baffled.

Nyota rolled her eyes. "You know, gay? As in _'likes men'?_ Do I need to get any more graphic than that? Because I can, if you need a detailed explanation."

Jim took a moment to process that statement. "Do you mean to say, I had a chance to sleep with my roommate and I didn't know until now? And nobody told me?"

"Jim!" She swatted him with the old-fashioned notebook she  used for her Romulan vocabulary.

"Ouch!"

"He's your roommate, so I'd say that ship has definitely sailed," Gary Mitchell said, stealing some of Nyota's grapes while she was busy hitting Jim. "After three months, he's probably onto you. Kid isn't stupid, is he? Besides, nobody sleeps with their roommate. It's just a bad idea."

"I don't know," Gaila said next to him, shrugging and eyeing Nyota, "I would."

"Well, I _wouldn't_ ," Nyota said firmly. "It's bad enough that you keep bringing people back to our room."

"You could join any time you like," Gaila offered, smiling and high-fiving a cheering Gary.

"Why do I even bother with you lot?" Nyota asked, rolling her eyes. "Leonard? Some input, please?"

"Oh no, I'm not getting involved in this." Leonard shook his head. He turned to look at Jim. "But I'll be sure to add a full STD panel to _your_ next medical exam."

"Awww, Bones, c'mon...!" Jim whined. "Not again!"

"We can't have you endangering the future of Starfleet, can we? And at the rate your going, you'd be capable of infecting half the Academy within a couple of months or so." The sad thing was, that wasn't even much of an exaggeration. In his first three months, Jim had already accumulated considerable experience and an intimate knowledge of a rather large part of the student population... as well as a less than stellar reputation. Still, for some reason people seemed drawn to him like fireflies. Male, female, other, gender non-conforming - it didn't matter. They knew that they were just notches on his bedpost, but they still fell for his charms.

"That's not fair," Jim protested. "Besides... at least I stick to cadets. I'm not sleeping with faculty members."

"Yes, well, thank you for that enlightening bit of information. Neither am I, though." Leonard replied with a shrug. _Well... technically..._

"Uh, I meant Nyota...? Who has this huge crush on Commander Spock?"

That earned him another hit with Nyota's notebook. "I do not have a crush on him!" But her blush was rather telling.

"Yeah, you do," Gaila said.

Jim turned to Leonard again. "Wait. It's been three months and you still haven't slept with Pike? Is he a closet religious fundamentalist and are you waiting until after the wedding, or what?"

Leonard ground his teeth. In his opinion, his private life wasn't up for public discussion, but Jim had no concept of privacy.

"Nyota, can I borrow your notebook? I need to hit him."

"Sure."

"No, but seriously," Jim said, now looking... concerned? "Are you... is everything all right between the two of you?"

Okay, so he was almost endearing when he cared. Almost.

Leonard rolled his eyes. " _Yes_ , Jim. He's asexual, I'm straight. There's just no common ground for sexual attraction and that suits us just fine. Sex isn't a necessary part of a successful relationship."

"... it isn't?"

"That's a very adult way of looking at things," Nyota complimented. "And therefore completely beyond Jim, I'm afraid."

"Hey!"

By now, Leonard had resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't get in any more study time while Jim was around, and he had a post mortem scheduled that afternoon. Dr. Francis Ouattara, who taught _Humanoid Physiology_ for the first semester medical cadets, was entirely too fond of practical instruction. _Might as well get it over with..._

"Right, I've got a corpse waiting for me at the morgue," he told the others.

Gaila pulled a face. "Ugh."

"What a cheery thought," Nyota said. "Have... fun, I guess?"

"Sure." _As if...!_

* * *

 

 

"I swear, they only teach this course in first semester to see if they can scare any of us away with the really gross stuff," Min-seo complained as soon as he had taken his seat next to her. Leonard had followed Dr. Boyce's advice and chosen two permanent lab partners. Min-seo Cho was human, tiny and nervous. Pharyx was a Denobulan woman of indeterminate age and quietly brilliant.

"Probably," Pharyx agreed. "Isn't it funny that we get to run roughshod over other people's cultural sensitivities by unnecessarily cutting up dead bodies, but _Medical Ethics_ doesn't come up until second semester?"

"I get the feeling Starfleet isn't that big on ethics. It's more of an 'ends justifying means' approach," Leonard said drily.

Min-seo shook her head. "I wouldn't say it's useless per se..."

"Come on. Any decent holo simulation would teach you the same things without the need to dissect anybody," Pharyx argued.

"Yeah, but it's not the same, is it?"

Leonard noticed that Pharyx was looking at him expectantly... expecting him to back her up, most likely. He shrugged. "I'm with Min on that one. It's not the same. The simulations are great, but you won't be prepared for what it's like to operate on an actual patient, or to do a post mortem, until you've actually done it. It's different. The simulation allows you to detach, to forget the person and concentrate on the task; but with an actual person that's ten times harder... and sometimes, it's not possible at all. But you need to learn how to do it. Look, if you work at a hospital, chances are you won't know most of your patients, they'll be strangers to you. You might not ever see them awake, or talk to them. But on a starship or a station, they'll be the people you work and live with. Colleagues, neighbors, friends, people you like or you can't stand."

"That's a very good point, Cadet McCoy," Dr. Ouattara said behind them, having approached without any of them noticing him. It was one of his more annoying habits, Leonard found.

"I'm not sure I could operate on my friends," Min said, a worried look on her face.

 _Well, you'll have to, sooner or later_ , Leonard thought, wondering not for the first time if she had chosen the right profession.

 

* * *

 

 

Christopher Pike was not a morning person.

He was disciplined enough to get up at whatever time his schedule demanded, but that didn't mean he _liked_ it.

When Leonard shook him awake - well, _shook_ was perhaps too strong a word, it was more of a series of gentle but insistent nudges, not unlike the head-butts a cat might give its sleepy owner - he groaned, rolled onto his other side and buried his head in the pillow. Leonard chuckled. Bastard. This wasn't funny, was it?

"Sorry, love," Leonard said, not sounding nearly sorry enough. "I would let you sleep in, but you told me yourself you had an appointment to keep this morning."

Curse his more awake self, why had he said something like that? "It's Sunday..."

"It seemed important to you."

With that, Leonard got up and left Chris wondering how in the world anyone could be this alert and friendly on a Sunday morning at - he risked a glance at the clock - 7 AM. Judging by the silence, not even Pavel was up yet.

He was trying to remember why it had seemed like a good idea to spend his one free morning of the week supervising a trial run for Spock's new training simulation, especially given the fact that Spock certainly didn't need supervision. His perfectionism usually saw to that. He had also recently been promoted to Commander for his outstanding scientific work, and while he still struggled with the idiosyncrasies of his human students, he had proven to be a surprisingly good teacher. Chris wasn't Spock's superior anymore, or even working with him directly, but when his former protégé had asked him to attend the simulation, he had readily agreed. It obviously meant something to Spock to have him there, and given how rare any show of emotion from the younger man was, Chris had felt touched.

Leonard returned with two mugs of coffee, steaming enticingly. Chris turned towards him, noticing how his grumpy 'I hate mornings' expression began to slip away into a smile. Oh well. Busted. If Leonard hadn't know already how to manipulate him into getting up, he knew now.

This was still very new to them; sharing nights, sharing mornings. It worked surprisingly well, much better than Chris had dared to hope for. Leonard was singularly undemanding. He did steal the covers occasionally, though.

Briefly, his mind returned to that first night they had spent together, after a long evening of dinner and conversation, turned into drinks and cuddles on the sofa, until both of them were half asleep, and Chris had been reluctant to let the evening end, unwilling to let go of Leonard.

"Do you want to spend the night?"

A moment of uncertainty. Blue eyes, already heavy-lidded, searching his. "... yes."

A flutter of nervous joy, easily chased away as he intertwined his fingers with Leonard's.

"But I didn't bring anything."

"I'm sure we'll manage." _Please_. As if he didn't relish the proprietary joy of seeing Leonard in one of his own shirts... and holding him close, in the dark. Just the two of them, with the world around them silenced.

"I've missed this," Leonard muttered, voice drowsy.

"What?"

"This. Closeness, intimacy. Jocelyn wasn't much of a cuddler, not even in our best days, and lately..." A shrug. "It was never really the sex I missed, it was this."

That, Chris could relate to. Unfortunately, too many people confused one with the other.

"So... will it be enough?"

Leonard shifted in his arms. "I can't see the future, Chris. What I can tell you, though, is that it feels pretty damn great right now. And that you worry too much."

Apparently so.

Several months down the line, and Leonard was still here, and bringing him coffee.

"I swear, if there was ever any substance that stood a chance at raising people from the dead, it would be coffee," he said, clearly amused as he handed Chris one of the mugs.

"Let's hope you'll never have to put that theory to the test. Thank you." He sat up and accepted the mug, inhaling the rich scent. The morning suddenly seemed brighter. Leonard joined him on the bed again, and Chris pulled him comfortably close, until Leonard's back rested lightly against his chest, and loped one arm around him in a loose hug. Okay, better.

"So what is this event this morning about?" Leonard asked.

"It's a training simulation. It's primarily aimed at Command track cadets, but since it calls for a number of participants, Spock had the idea to expand it and open it up to the other branches as well, and that seems sensible to me. We work with simulations a lot - not just in piloting and navigation, but also when it comes to training tactical maneuvers and emergency procedures. Some are fairly straightforward, others are more complex. This scenario is fairly elaborate. The participants - forming a standard bridge crew - are confronted with a distress call from another vessel, a ship named Kobayashi Maru. There are no further instructions, they are left to react and deal with the situation on their own. It is anticipated that they will usually attempt a rescue mission."

"Sounds pretty straightforward to me. What's the catch?"

"It's a no-win scenario. No matter what they do, there is no possible choice that will lead them to being able to save both their own ship and the Kobayashi Maru. You might say that the simulation is rigged against them, that they are set up to fail."

"What's the point of that?"

"Testing their reactions under pressure, for one. But also showing them that not every problem has a solution. That's an important lesson, and Spock believes that it's one Starfleet often fails to teach to its recruits. I agree. They need to learn to deal with frustration, because at some point, many of them will be faced with an impossible choice."

"I doubt that simulation will make you or Commander Spock very popular You have a lot of wannabe heroes in Command track."

Chris grinned. "No kidding. Luckily, this is not a popularity contest."

 

* * *

 

 

The Kobayashi Maru scenario trial run went pretty much as expected, which was to say, flawlessly. If Spock was nervous, it certainly didn't show. He greeted Chris and the other observers in his usual calm, slightly distant manner.

Captain Fuentes had supplied a group of five volunteers from her class, and Engineering had provided two more. They all trooped into the simulation room, nodded along to Spock's instructions, and despite their best efforts, failed spectacularly at saving the day.

Spock seemed pleased as he looked at their dejected expressions. "Maybe you should explain to them what the point of this experiment is," Chris suggested, but the Vulcan disagreed. "I don't want them to spread it around. That would ruin the learning experience for those who have not yet participated in the simulation."

"Next time, tell them it's a test," Captain Fuentes said.

"Why?"

She shrugged. "It increases the pressure."

"You're evil," Chris told her.

"Nonsense. My cadets thrive under pressure. It brings out the best in them... or shows that they should choose a different path. Either way, it's good."

Philip Boyce, who had been watching as Medical's designated observer - and ready to provide emergency medical assistance, Chris suspected, because clearly Dean Nurmi had little faith in academic experimentation - walked across the room to join them.

"Congratulations, Spock, you just took a chip out of their self esteem," he said, waving a hand towards the group of unhappy cadets whispering among themselves.

Spock regarded him coolly and Chris had a feeling he would have shrugged, had he been raised among humans. "They need to learn to deal with frustration. Life is unpredictable, particularly in space."

"I didn't say I disapproved, did I?" Boyce shook his head. "Far be it from me to discourage anyone who undertakes the heroic attempt to teach those command types a realistic perspective on life." The latter, said with a sly wink, was clearly aimed at Chris and Enida Fuentes.

Chris retaliated with a playful punch to his upper arm that Boyce predictably failed to dodge. Enida snorted.

"It's nice to see you teaching at the Academy, Spock," Boyce said, "now all we need is for Number One to give up on her boring patrol duty and return Earth-side, and the old _Yorktown_ posse would be complete."

"I do believe that would be more than the Academy could handle," Spock replied in a rare show of dry humor. The others laughed.

"Lunch?" Boyce suggested.

"Please." After all, it wasn't as if Chris had any other plans for the rest of the day.

"Chris, where's your doctor?" Enida asked.

"Uh... here?" Chris said, momentarily confused and pointing at Boyce (who was indeed his primary physician, medical ethics be damned).

"No, I meant the other one. McCoy."

"He's not my..." Chris began, just as Boyce said: "Studying, I hope. I gave him a rather generous homework assignment, possibly because I enjoy making my cadets suffer just as much as you do. That, or it might have been vindictive jealousy." He grinned at Chris.

"Are you, though?" Chris asked, suddenly sobered, because well, _that_ would have been a problem. "Jealous?"

"Oh, ridiculously so," Boyce said lightly, loping an arm through his. "He's young, pretty, and an absolute genius. What's there not to envy? But in case you're worried, I actually set him to brush up on his Orion cardiology because I want him to assist me in surgery next week. We have a rather high ranking member of the Orion oligarchy visiting for treatment and there might be diplomatic consequences if anything went amiss. I can use an extra pair of hands and eyes, and he can use the experience."

Which certainly explained why Leonard had been so engrossed in his studies these last few days. It also didn't quite alleviate Chris' growing concern that Phil _might_ actually be jealous of Leonard. They seemed to get along well enough, and Leonard hadn't breathed a word of complaint about Phil's performance as his academic counselor, but there still was that nagging feeling of uncertainty... after all, Chris hadn't been in a serious relationship since their breakup, and he knew Phil well enough to suspect him of harboring some residual resentment.

If the shoe of jealous ex-boyfriend fit... well. He'd have to watch that rather more closely than he had anticipated.

 

* * *

 

 

They had lunch in a cafe halfway between the Academy Campus and the Administrative District that catered mostly to the - often exotic - eating preferences of visiting diplomats and researchers. Spock seemed satisfied with whatever salad-like Vulcan dish he was being served, and Phil, who had always been an adventurous eater, tried a colorful Tellarite dish. Enida and Chris both opted for lionfish tacos.

"You know how these ended up on the menu of every restaurant in coastal North America?" Enida asked, waving a hand at her plate.

"Not really, but I like them," Chris told her.

"Down in Florida, they found themselves overwhelmed by a lionfish plague that threatened to depopulate local reefs. Some idiot had released them from an aquarium - they weren't native to the area. Anyway, these guys have a ferocious appetite and eat almost anything. They were in the process of gobbling up all the native fauna when the Floridians decided to turn the tables and started hunting and eating them. It's a strategy that's since been used against a number of invasive species with pretty good success rates. If you can't beat them, eat them."

"I wonder if that would work on two-legged species as well," Phil said. "It would definitely make intergalactic conflicts more interesting..."

"Phil!" Chris protested. "As if...!"

Spock seemed unperturbed, though. "Probably not. Most highly developed species appear to have a cultural bias against eating creatures that closely resemble them."

"So that's a no to grilled Klingon," Enida said.

Chris sighed. "Why am I even having lunch with you people?"

"In present company, maybe you should be grateful for the fact that you are having lunch, instead of being lunch," Spock mentioned with a perfectly straight face.

The others laughed.

They were halfway through desert, when their communicators went off. All of them, at once. Chris swore, exchanging glances with Phil and Enida, and found his assumption reflected in their expressions: whatever this was, it couldn't be good.

Phil tapped his communicator first, with the practiced, instinctive movement of a man used to emergency calls at all hours.

_"Starfleet Medical to all on-duty medical personnel: this is an emergency alert. Incident called in on the Academy campus, multiple casualties expected. First response team dispatched. Standby for further instructions."_

Next came Enida: _"Captain Fuentes for Lieutenant Tran: be advised that two of your cadets were involved in an incident and may be injured. Your presence is requested."_

Then Spock: _"Security alert: all residents of Neptune Hall, your building is under an immediate evacuation order. Make your way to the nearest emergency exit. Do not linger inside the building. Move to the dedicated assembly point and await further instructions."_

And finally: _"Captain Pike this is Admiral Barnett. Whatever you're doing, drop it and come to my office immediately."_

For a minute, chaos reigned.

"What sort of incident? Which cadets?"

"Boyce to emergency dispatch, what the fuck is going on?"

"What happened?!"

_"... explosion at Neptune hall... "_

"Tran? Tran! Which of my cadets?"

_"... number of casualties still unknown... "_

_"No, we have not determined the cause yet..."_

_"... Cadets Sulu and Kirk..."_

Chris felt the world spin too fast, and the only clear thought on his mind was: _That's it. It has happened._

"Sulu and Kirk are roommates." Enida's face had turned unnaturally pale. "At Neptune."

"Why would there be an explosion in a dormitory?" Phil asked, frowning.

Chris was already on his feet, and halfway to the door. There was no time to lose, even though he felt fear twist his insides; fear that it was already too late.

 

* * *

 

 

Admiral Barnett's office was in a state of considerable disarray and confusion, and their hurried arrival didn't help matters. At a guess, there were about fifteen people in the room, and more than a handful of them wore the distinctive security uniform. They were very visibly armed.

Chris also spotted at least two medical uniforms, and several flashes of cadet red. He didn't see Admiral Reed at first, but he very clearly heard him, alternately barking orders and dressing down a ruffled-looking Admiral Barnett.

"... could have told you something like this would happen; why didn't you take precautions?"

Barnett seemed somewhat overwhelmed, and honestly relieved when he spotted Chris. Under different circumstances, it would have been amusing to see him so flustered.

"What's going on here, sir?"

But it wasn't Barnett who answered; Reed never gave him a chance to do so.

"Captain Pike. Good. Now we're getting somewhere. Somebody planted an explosive device in Cadet Kirk's quarters."

_Dear God._

"An assassination attempt?" Enida asked incredulously.

"Given that it was planted underneath his bed, that seems a reasonable assumption," Reed replied drily. "Luckily, something went wrong with the triggering mechanism, which is why Cadet Kirk is still with us. It went off early. Kirk stood close to the door and escaped with a few bad bruises and a broken arm. Cadet Sulu was on the other side of the room, he sustained slightly more serious injuries, but nothing life-threatening. Cadets Chekov and McCoy were not injured."

In that moment, Chris could feel his heart stop in his chest. It was as if somebody had drawn all the air from his lungs and left him floating in a vacuum.

_Pavel. Leonard._

Somebody swore loudly; Enida demanded answers, and Barnett said something that Chris didn't catch. He felt oddly detached.

"Chris...? Shit!"

And then Phil was by his side, gripping his arm. "Chris. It's alright. They're fine." A supporting arm came around his shoulders. "Here, sit down for a moment. Take a deep breath."

He turned to look at Reed over his shoulder. "You're an asshole, anyone ever tell you that?"

Barnett looked as if he was about to hyperventilate, probably because nobody in their right mind spoke to Admiral Reed in that tone. But Reed seemed nonplussed. "Plenty of people." He looked at Chris. "As I said, they're fine. In fact, here's Chekov."

From the throttle of dark command and security uniforms emerged a small, red-clad figure.

"Before you say anything, I didn't do it!" Pavel assured him, hands half raised and looking slightly nervous.

Chris huffed out an incredulous laugh. "That's _not_ my first concern. Are you okay?" He ran his eyes over the boy, but Pavel did indeed seem fine. His uniform was a bit mussed, but that was it. Chris sent a fervent prayer of thanks to whatever higher powers there might be in the universe.

Pavel nodded vigorously. "Hikaru and Jim got hurt, though. But I don't think Jim is hurt too badly, because he's been arguing with the paramedic."

Since Pavel was currently in the typical teenage 'parents are super-embarrassing and no  hugging in front of strangers' phase, Chris suppressed the urge. Barely. "Where is Leonard?"

"Trying to calm Jim down. He hit the paramedic. I don't think he likes hypos."

Chris doubted it was the hypo that had been the issue, but kept silent.

"I'll see if I can run interference," Phil said, patting Chris on the arm, before he disappeared into the crowd.

"What a mess!" Enida looked at Reed, as if she expected him to make sense of what had happened. "Where is Sulu? Did they take him to Medical?"

Reed nodded. "Don't worry, I sent two capable security officer after him. Until we know what this is all about, I prefer to err on the side of caution. I don't believe anyone meant to hurt Cadet Sulu, though. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Collateral damage. Same as McCoy and Chekov; they weren't supposed to be there in the first place. Not on a Sunday."

"What _were_ you doing there?" Chris asked Pavel.

"Jim, Leonard and a bunch of other cadets were going to play volleyball together. Leonard asked if I wanted to join. We just went to Neptune to get Jim; it was on the way."

 _Coincidence_. And it had almost killed them. Chris let out a long breath.

Enida crossed her arms in front of her chest, now looking less shocked and a lot more furious. "Okay. Somebody explain to me why someone is trying to kill _my_ cadets. Any ideas, gentlemen? Because despite the obvious confusion and horror, none of you seems particularly surprised."

"Not here, captain," Barnett cut her off sharply. "Or rather, not now. I have no wish of discussing this with half of the Academy gathered at my office!"

"It'll get worse," Reed said, looking up from his PADD. "The Admirality is certain to descend on your office, as soon as word gets out that someone tried to kill the _Kelvin_ baby. Marcus and Westervliet may be out of town, but you can be sure that they'll send some of their flunkies your way. Komack and Nogura are sure to show face. And then there's the rest of the Academy Board. Nogura's on your team, but none of the others like you very much, so there will be nasty questions." He didn't sound the least bit sympathetic or concerned, it was a mere statement of fact, delivered in a perfectly neutral tone. Chris got the distinct feeling that Reed included himself in the catch-all 'the others' when it came to Barnett. On the other hand, Reed had probably outlived enough Starfleet Admirals to make their faces seem like an endless progression of blurry features running together.

Barnett sighed. "I _hate_ politics." He turned to Chris. "I told you this was a bad idea, and a danger to the boy, but do you ever listen to me? Never mind, it was a rhetorical question. All we can do at the moment is damage control."

"No, the priority should be ensuring Kirk's safety," Chris disagreed, because he could see where this was headed and didn't like it one bit. Starfleet's idea of 'damage control' had been just as deadly to the colonists on Tarsus IV as the crazy schemes of their dictator. "And if you don't mind, I'll see to that myself." _Or even if you do._

"You and what army?" Reed asked laconically, but Chris was then distracted by Phil pushing his way through the crowd with Jim and Leonard in tow. Both of them looked angry and wary. Jim had his left arm in a makeshift sling, and blood on his face, probably his own.

Phil shook his head. "You know, I never put much stock in the rumors about you and Winona, but by now even I am beginning to question this kid's parentage. He's just as damn stubborn as you."

Jim sent him a sullen look.

"What's the matter?" Chris asked, unable to feel anything but relief at seeing him alive and relatively unharmed.

"Someone blew up my room," Jim deadpanned.

"He's refusing treatment," Leonard jumped in, ignoring the glare immediately sent his way. "And he slapped the paramedic when she touched him without warning. Classic rookie mistake - I've taken it up with her supervisor."

"I'm fine." Jim insisted.

"You're an incurable idiot," Leonard said, but it sounded gruffly fond rather than angry.

"What about you?" Chris asked, throwing all his willpower into the effort of staying where he was and controlling his facial expressions. Barnett was already rattled enough, he didn't need to add fuel to the fire, and besides, his relationship with Leonard was _private_.

Leonard shrugged. "My ears are still ringing. I was outside in the hallway, didn't get hit by anything."

Chris nodded. That was something, at least. He turned to Barnett. "Admiral, with your permission, I'd like to take my family home for the time being. I'm sure there will have to be debriefings and inquiries later on, but for now, they should be in a safe and familiar place."

Barnett looked torn for a moment, but then he nodded.

Chris pushed on. "And that includes Jim Kirk."

In the background, Phil chuckled.

Barnett gave an exasperated sigh. "You can't adopt every troubled orphaned teenager in the world, Captain Pike, brilliant though they may be."

"Maybe not," Chris said, "but this one's mine."

 


	4. Youthful Indiscretions

Chris ushered them out of the room before the already beleaguered Admiral Barnett had much of a chance to voice his protest. In any case, he made no effort to hold them back. However, Barnett's compliance did not take Admiral Reed off their backs - or the security officers under his command. How the Admiral had come by his private security squadron was beyond Leonard's level of comprehension of Starfleet office politics, but they acted very much like a unified force with a mission.

Quick moving dark shapes surrounded them in a protective cocoon as they moved along the corridor. Leonard glanced at Chris, who looked decidedly unhappy, chin set, lips pursed, staring straight ahead.

"We do not need a guard of honor," Chris told Reed, who was still moving with them.

"Like hell you do," Reed growled. "Somebody just tried to kill Kirk with little or no consideration for _collateral damage_ ; you yourself have unfinished and fairly nasty business with some unnamed entity or person high enough up the food chain to wield considerable influence; and Captain Razek threatened Chekov in public only a few days ago. Tell me again that you'll be alright, I dare you."

Chris huffed out an exasperated sigh. "I sincerely doubt there are killer squads roaming the corridors of the Academy, sir." The _apart from your own_  wasn't voiced, but it hung in the air like an afterthought. Leonard wondered why he didn't just humor Reed, there seemed to be no obvious harm in doing so. After all, they were supposedly on the same team. But maybe it was a point of pride.

"Look," Reed replied, sounding every bit as exasperated as Chris had, "if somebody hurts you or those boys on my watch, Jon is going to be very, _very_ unhappy. And that's pretty much all that matters to me. So would you kindly shut up and let me ensure your continued survival, Captain Pike? Thank you."

 _Jon_ being Admiral Jonathan Archer, Leonard supposed. Dropping the name worked like a charm, though, Chris did not voice any further concerns.

"Will Hikaru be okay?" Pavel asked in a small voice. Leonard reached over to pat the boy's shoulder. "He should be. Dr. Boyce went to see him and will give us an update once he is awake."

"He pushed me out of the way," Pavel said, sounding awed. "It happened so fast, but somehow, he pushed me away."

"He has very good reflexes," Leonard agreed, thinking _fencing master, was it?_

"Note to self: do something nice for Cadet Sulu," Chris said laconically.

"I believe Admiral Barnett mentioned something about not picking up any more orphaned strays," Leonard reminded him in an admittedly weak attempt at humor.

Chris turned to flash him a brief smile nevertheless. It looked forced. "That's fine; I happen to know that Sulu has family and that they are very much alive and well."

Speaking of orphaned strays - Leonard looked at Jim, who was walking on his other side, suspiciously quiet. "You okay?"

"Somebody just tried to off me," was the sarcastic reply. "What do you think, Bones?"

Point taken.

"I'd like to take a look at your arm."

"And by _'look'_ you probably mean stab me with a hypo," Jim muttered.

"You read my mind," Leonard said drily.

"Fine." Jim rolled his eyes at him. "It's nothing, I've had worse."

"I know, I read the transcript from the scan I ran during your entry exam. Doesn't mean you need to be in pain now." He looked at Jim sideways, but the younger man evaded his gaze. _It's not the pain_ , Leonard realized. _He knows - or suspects something that is making him very, very uncomfortable._

At a guess: Jim had a theory about who was responsible for the attack.

Well, wasn't that interesting.

They had reached the house, and to nobody's great surprise, Reed announced: "I am leaving my people here. They will not be a bother, but I suggest you don't try to go anywhere unannounced."

"You are putting us under house arrest?" Chris asked, his voice more incredulous than outraged (though outrage probably wasn't far behind, and rapidly catching up).

Reed shrugged. "Call it whatever you like. It's for your own good. And I do outrank you, _captain_ , so whatever is on the tip of your tongue, hold it back. I don't stomach insubordination nearly as well as Barnett does." He gave a sharp nod to the commander of his squadron and the security officers spread out, presumably surrounding the house.

Chris looked livid as he held the door open, waving them through. Admiral Reed was pointedly not invited to step inside, but he didn't seem to mind.

The swish of the closing door found them standing awkwardly in the entryway, but Pavel, bless him, saved them. "I'm hungry," he announced. "I sort of missed lunch, and it's already time for dinner now. I think today is a pizza day...?" He looked at Chris, who immediately got on board.

"Today is _definitely_ a pizza day. With extra cheese and chocolate cake for dessert. Pizza pretty much solves everything."

Pavel grinned.

"Don't say it, Leonard," Chris warned, raising a finger at him.

"I wasn't going to," Leonard protested. "But Jim is allergic to just about anything, so let either him or me go over the list of ingredients before you place the order."

"Hey, I'm not allergic to pizza."

"No, just to garlic, shellfish, Vulcan sage, several Tellarite vegetables, anything from the mustard family - the list goes on."

"You have his allergies memorized?" Chris asked raising his eyebrows. "That's impressive."

"Or maybe a tad obsessive," Jim muttered.

"I'm your primary physician," Leonard told him, unamused. "It's my job to know what will put you into anaphylactic shock. Speaking of which, since you are allergic to most common painkillers, I'll have to ask Medical to send something over that won't knock you out."

"Damn, boy, we should put a warning tag on you," Chris said, shaking his head, "I really don't envy your future CMO. Make sure you take Dr. Boyce's emergency medicine course as soon as possible; aside from being mandatory for Command cadets, it would be self-preservation."

He took a PADD from the table and handed it to Leonard. "Here you go. If they give you any trouble, get Phil on the line."

And when Leonard looked puzzled for a moment, he added: "Philip Boyce. He said he'd head over to Medical to check on Sulu."

"Right." Leonard rubbed a hand over his face. He felt... weary. No, that wasn't quite it. More numb. Like his mind was an empty bottle, or at best filled with cotton.

Mechanically, he placed the order for Jim's medication, adding a few other supplies he wasn't sure he would find in the house for good measure. Within minutes, a cheerful chime from the PADD announced that a drone had been dispatched to deliver the order.

He looked up to find Chris and Pavel bent over another PADD, discussing pizza toppings. It felt surreal. There appeared to be something of a culinary cultural divide, Pavel having grown up on a hearty home-cooked Russian diet that occasionally haunted him, even after years spent in multi-cultural San Francisco.

"No, the only type of sausage that should ever go on a pizza is salami. Not to mention potatoes in any form," Chris argued.

"People put _pineapple_ on pizza."

"No pineapple," Leonard said automatically, "Jim is allergic to that."

"Good for him," Pavel said, pulling a face. "Hey Jim, can you eat pepperoni?"

But Jim didn't answer. Leonard turned to look at him and found that he had wandered off towards the windows facing the garden. He stood there, very still, staring off into the distance.

Leonard was about to head towards him, when another cheerful chime announced the arrival of the drone. Even better.

When he went to the door to receive the package, he noticed that somebody had stuck a bright orange note to its top. _Hope you're okay. Get well soon. - Min-seo_. His lab partner had chosen pharmacology as one of her first semester courses and since Starfleet Medical firmly believed that there were valuable lessons to be learned through menial labor, she spent several hours a week helping out in the dispensary.

"Love letters?" Chris asked, when he brought the package inside. "Should I be jealous?"

"Absolutely. She's about Pavel's size, maybe a couple of years older than him, and firmly believes in the good in all creatures."

"Sounds like a perfect match."

Leonard snorted and took a hypo out of the box. "Jim, I need you to sit down for a moment. Since you're allergic to all the good stuff, we have to use something a little unusual, and one of the side effects of this particular painkiller is dizziness."

"Great," Jim muttered, but he obediently sat down at the table and even put up his arm for Leonard to examine. "Why am I allergic to everything?" It sounded resigned rather than accusing.

"I'd have to guess, but having been born in space on a transport shuttle during a battle probably has something to do with it. Your Mom was right about that: you were exposed to levels of radiation not recommended for an adult, never mind a newborn. You also experienced a period of malnutrition as a child that didn't do wonders for your health." It was phrased as delicately as possible - Jim, after all, didn't know that Chris had shared his memories of Tarsus IV with Leonard.

"May I?" he asked, pointing vaguely in the general direction of Jim's arm. Careful not to make his movements too sudden, to keep them from becoming a threat. You had to ask; that had been the paramedic's mistake, and he had no desire to be hit, but more importantly, he had to earn Jim's trust and keep it. One day, Jim's life might depend on it.

Jim's answering sigh sounded theatrical and rehearsed. Covering something - what? Anxiety? Fear? Memories?

Gently, Leonard took his arm, running a scanner over it with his other hand. A clean break. Good. A few superficial scratches, too, but nothing serious. The only good kind of damage: damage that could be repaired.

"I'm going to administer the painkiller, clean it a bit, then use the regenerator. Fifteen minutes, tops" he told Jim, looking at him and seeking his approval.

Jim gave a slow nod.

"How did it happen? I didn't see."

"I'm not really sure." Confused expression. Well, he wasn't the only one. It had happened so damn fast. Blink once, and the whole world is in shambles.

Chris ambled over, having completed the pizza order.

"You okay?" he asked, looking at Jim, but the question could have been equally addressed to both of them.

"Just wondering who would try to kill me." His voice was oddly flat. Tired?

"I don't know, have you aggravated anyone enough to warrant an assassination attempt?" Chris asked.

Jim pulled a face. 

"Maybe it was a practical joke gone wrong," Leonard suggested.

Neither Jim nor  Chris looked as if they believed it.

"We'll have to wait for the results of the investigation. I have every confidence in Admiral Reed's ability to hunt down a would-be killer. We might not get to meet them alive, but..."

"Is he really that bad?" Leonard asked, carefully repositioning the regenerator.

"Without Archer to reign him in? Yes."

"Where is Admiral Archer?" Jim asked.

"Off-world. Some sort of high-level meeting on Vulcan. He still travels a lot, despite his age." Chris paused, and then added quietly, almost too himself: "I wonder if it's a coincidence."

In Leonard's opinion, Chris was growing a little too fond of his conspiracy theories. But then, prior experience had probably given him ample cause for paranoia, case in point, the Tarsus IV episode. On the whole, paranoia was probably as good a survival strategy as any; Admiral Reed seemed to be the living example of that. He shook his head. He hadn't thought it possible, but he was growing less and less fond of Starfleet, or at the very least it's human resources management.

He was saved from further pursuing this depressing train of thought by the arrival of the pizza. 

Pavel gave a gleeful shout, rushing to the front door, and moments later, they were seated at the table. It was an odd family meal, but not uncomfortable. Both Pavel and Jim ate heartily, their appetites apparently undiminished by their near brush with death. Chris watched them surreptitiously but with obvious satisfaction across the table.

"We should do this more often. Minus the explosive part, though."

Pavel nodded enthusiastically, mouth currently full. Jim shrugged. "I won't ever decline free food," he said, and Leonard very briefly caught a shadow of dismay pass over Chris's face. It was too brief for Jim to notice.

"Well, if it isn't  _always_ pizza," he conceded.

Three pairs of eyes turned on him, and Jim was rolling his.

"Why?" Pavel asked. "Pizza's great."

"Wait for it," Chris said, grinning.

Leonard shot him a mock-glare. "Yeah, well, it's not exactly a substantial part of a well-balanced diet."

"But look," Pavel said, pointing to a piece of pizza, "this one has spinach on top. Spinach is a vegetable, and vegetables are good, right?"

"You probably know more about the chemical composition of the average spinach leaf than I do, whiz kid, so don't play dumb," Leonard chided mildly, "it isn't actually that rich in essential vitamins or minerals."

"The chemical composition of spinach," Jim echoed, shaking his head. "Seriously? That's the sort of conversation you guys have at dinner? Shame Sulu is in the hospital, he'd fit right in. Though I think he prefers live plants to dissected ones."

"We'll invite him over, then, once he is better," Chris suggested. "Cake, anyone?"

 

* * *

 

Since Admiral Reed had essentially placed them under house arrest, there was no question of either Leonard or Jim returning to the dormitories. Besides, Jim's dorm room was now a crime scene, and no doubt currently being examined and picked apart by the investigation team.

"You'll take the guest room," Chris told Jim. "I've sent to the quartermaster for a change of clothes and basic necessities, the bag is next to your bed. Pasha, show him where the bathroom is, okay?"

Pavel, already in his pajamas (tiny blue spaceships on grey, and Leonard was valiantly attempting not to comment), nodded earnestly.

Jim looked uncertain. "I don't want to impose."

"Nonsense," Chris huffed. He put a hand on Jim's shoulder, something Leonard wouldn't have recommended given earlier events, but Jim seemed okay with it. "I meant what I told Barnett. You're family."

"I-" Jim seemed flabbergasted. "Isn't that against the rules, sir?" He asked, with a slight emphasis on the last word.

"Rules, what rules?" Chris countered. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm dating a cadet, and I just persuaded the Academy Board to accept my son into the Academy. Of course, that was helped by the fact that he's absolutely brilliant, but still."

Pavel grinned at that, looking proud. Chris winked at him, before continuing:

"Relax, Jim. It's far more common than people realize - Admiral Archer himself maintained a very close relationship with all surviving members of his crew and their descendants, especially Hoshi Sato's children and grandchildren. Not to mention Admiral Reed, of course. Admiral Westervliet is married to a former Academy classmate and two of their five children are in Starfleet. Marcus has a daughter who is in Starfleet. And besides, I've known you since before you were able to walk."

"There's that," Jim admitted, a cautious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Then, as an afterthought: "Please tell me there aren't any embarrassing pictures?"

"You bet there are," Chris said. "And I'm not above using them as leverage, should it ever come to that. But that reminds me - somebody should probably contact your mother before the news reach her in some other way." He looked at Jim expectantly.

Jim fidgeted. "I'm not..."

"- currently on speaking terms with her? Yes, I thought as much. Still. She should know. And it would sound better coming from you. You don't have to talk to her, but send her a message, or I will."

Jim frowned, but he didn't protest any longer.

"Try to get some sleep," Chris told him. "Tomorrow will likely consist of a series of increasingly frustrating interviews and meetings - for all four of us."

Leonard doubted that any of them would sleep well, if at all, but kept that thought to himself as he followed Chris to the master bedroom. Methodically, he went through the everyday nighttime rituals. Running mostly on autopilot was comforting in a way, because he didn't have to think, didn't have to make any choices. It also meant that despite the sudden disruption of his life, some things hadn't changed abruptly.

He could feel Chris watching him. It was neither entirely unpleasant nor unexpected. With a soft sigh, he pulled his shirt over his head and turned around.

"I'm not going to break down into tears or pieces anytime soon."

Chris didn't look particularly impressed. "Maybe not, but you aren't as unaffected as you pretend to be."

Touché. But then, he had almost been killed today, and/or watched some of his friends die.

"Neither are you," he countered.

"Me?" Chris huffed out a humorless laugh. "I'm furious."

Which was likely true, but not the entire truth. Leonard gave another sigh. "Can we drop the macho act for a bit?" he asked tiredly.

After all, there was nobody watching now. The façade could go back up once they went out in public again. For now... for now he was just exhausted.

"Alright," Chris agreed, both his voice and his expression growing softer. "I was fucking terrified today," he admitted quietly.

Leonard pulled him into a hug. "I figured as much. You were white as a sheet."

"I almost lost you. All three of you."

Pain, such pain.

There was really nothing he could do or say to alleviate it, and that made him feel helpless.

"I promise not to hang out with Jim on my free days anymore," he suggested sarcastically. Sarcasm came easy. Other things... did not.

"Ha ha. I think we had better find whoever is behind this and make sure they are incapable of doing any further harm."

"The word you are so studiously avoiding is 'eliminate'."

Chris' hold on him tightened. "Whatever is necessary."

Leonard nodded silently. He had expected as much.

"So," he said, changing subjects, because nothing ruined the mood quite like the thought of extra-legal retaliation, "Jim's family now. What does that make me, the evil stepmother?"

Chris snorted. "Bit too young for that role, aren't you? And anyway, he doesn't get along with his mother."

"Yeah, so what's that all about?"

Talking about Jim was okay. Not safe territory exactly, but...

Shrug. "He blames her for shipping him off to Tarsus, she blames herself for shipping him off to Tarsus, and the shadow of his father looms over both of them. Jim looks a bit too much like George for Winona's comfort. And he was more than a handful as a child."

It was fairly easy to imagine. Still... "She abandoned him."

"Not on purpose. She just couldn't handle him and the PTSD. She sent him to Tarsus believing he'd be safer and happier there. It wasn't her fault that he wasn't."

Given his obvious fondness of Jim, Leonard was a bit surprised to hear Chris defend her, but then he remember that Winona had been his friend, too. Maybe she still was.

"Did you tell her you found him?"

"What do you think?" Chris shook his head, letting go of him and settling on the bed. "Of course I did. She had a right to know. She was... relieved, I believe. Sometimes it's hard to tell with Winona."

"I bet that makes her relationship with Jim all the more complicated. He's one of the most emotional humans I've ever met - not in a sentimental, but in a passionate way - and if she doesn't handle emotional displays well... can't be easy." Poor Jim, though. As if he wasn't lugging around enough baggage already.

"He's badly shaken."

"Who, Jim? Yeah, I noticed." Chris sighed tiredly and rubbed a hand over his face. "He knows something, doesn't he? Something he hasn't told us?"

Leonard nodded. "Knows or suspects."

"Great," Chris said, without enthusiasm. "I'll deal with that tomorrow... or whenever he's ready to talk, more likely."

He patted the space next to him on the bed, looking at Leonard expectantly.

"I probably won't sleep," Leonard warned him.

"You may surprise yourself. Get comfortable, at least."

There were many things left unsaid, but Leonard didn't fail to notice that Chris held him unusually tight that night.

 

* * *

 

 

 Breakfast was late, and delivered by Dr. Philip Boyce. Nobody had invited him, but since he brought an assortment of pastries, fruit, and bagels, he was welcomed nevertheless.

"How's the arm?" He asked Jim, who was busy finishing off a chocolate-glazed doughnut.

Jim shrugged. "Bones fixed it."

Boyce raised his eyebrows at Leonard. "Letting your patient call you by a nickname is a tad... unprofessional," he teased.

"I call you names," Chris said over his shoulder, while offering a fresh pot of coffee.

" _You_ are a pain in the ass, and always will be," Boyce said fondly and helped himself to a croissant. "So. Fair warning, Archer's on his way in. ETA about two hours, I'm told, and I don't doubt he's going to head to the Academy straightaway."

"How the hell did Reed get him here so fast?" Chris asked, shaking his head.

"I don't know, telepathic bond? Trans-warp beaming? Time travel? Whatever weird stuff way above everyone's clearance level those two have come up with over the years? I don't believe even Admiral Marcus knows what they're up to, most of the time." He turned to the three younger men. "Admiral Archer is the godfather of Starfleet, and Admiral Reed is his consigliere. They don't teach these things in orientation, but they damn well should."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Now you are being melodramatic. Mostly, Admiral Archer is just a nice old gentleman with a lot of stories to tell and a penchant for benevolent meddling."

"Unless you mess with his dog," Pavel said brightly. 

"Did Reed tell you that?" Chris asked, clearly amused. "Well, he would know. Rule one of dealing with Admiral Archer - if the dog likes you, you're already in his good books."

Barely two hours later, Leonard had occasion to test that theory, and it held true. Porthos sniffed his legs and apparently found the scent appealing, siting down by his side and panting expectantly until Leonard bent down to pet him. When Leonard looked up, it was to find Admiral Archer smile briefly at him.

Admiral Reed on the other hand, looked as grimly unamused as ever. And he had yet to call off his security team.

"Where are the boys?" Archer asked.

"Jim is sending his mother a message to let her know he's okay; Pavel is working on some sort of mathematical problem - I think he's trying to figure out how much and what type of explosives were used yesterday."

Reed looked somewhat more interested at that. "If he comes up with something, let me know. Barnett's people are still scratching their heads, apparently."

Chris led them into the living room, offering drinks and they all settled down with cups of coffee and tea. It was oddly civilized compared to yesterday's chaos and confusion.

"Do we know anything yet?" Chris asked. "Since we were kept under house arrest, and Barnett won't tell me anything..." He sent and unfriendly look in the direction of Admiral Reed, who seemed unperturbed by it.

"Malcolm's approach may have been a bit heavy-handed, but he means well," Archer assured them.

Chris pointedly cleared his throat. "A bit?"

"I call it the 'dead canary approach'. You know how cats like to give gifts to humans they love? Dead things on your doorstep. It might be a mouse, or it might be your pet canary, whatever the cat can catch. They don't distinguish, and the cat won't understand why you scold it, rather than applaud its skills as a hunter." He winked at Chris. "You're the dead canary, in this scenario."

Reed visibly rolled his eyes. "I hate it when he tries to be funny," he said to nobody in particular.

"Liar," Archer said mildly.

 "What we know so far, or what I know, at least, isn't much," Archer continued. "No DNA-traces have been found, so whoever did it was either careful, or - more likely - lucky in that the explosion destroyed all traces. All things considered, they seem to have been a bit clumsy. The bomb went off too early, and it didn't pack much of a punch."

"IED," Reed interjected.

"What?"

"Improvised explosive device.  _Improvised_   being the key word here. Your little genius could probably build something better without looking up specifications." He nodded at Chris.

"In short, our assassin was not very good," Archer said.

"Lucky us," Leonard muttered.

"So whoever is behind this wasn't a professional killer?" Chris asked, leaning forward.

Reed shook his head. "Hardly. It looks more like the sort of thing an angry cadet might do, over a fight for a girl, or a boy."

"Given Jim's abiding interest in bipeds who are alive and under the age of fifty or equivalent, I'd say that's a likely scenario," Leonard said dryly. "Maybe we should ask him for a list. Could be a long one, though."

"I find it hard to believe that someone would try to kill him over... that." Chris said, dubiously.

Reed huffed. "People can be surprisingly idiotic. Particularly young people. Still... it does seem a bit excessive. Especially since three others were also endangered. Maybe they wanted it to look like something a cadet would do."

"They?" Chris asked.

"Conspiracies work better when there's more than one person involved."

Archer rolled his eyes. "Malcolm..." It sounded long-suffering.

"Whoever disappeared Jim Kirk might have issues with him re-appearing at the Academy ten years later," Reed pointed out. "We know it wasn't his mother or Pike, so who else would have an interest in the boy?" He looked at Chris, who shrugged.

"Everyone? He is the  _Kelvin baby_ , after all."

"No, I don't think that's it," Reed said pensively. "To long ago, and no reason to kill somebody."

"Well, since everyone's thinking it,  I'll say it," Archer said, his expression suddenly glum. " _Tarsus_. To hell with that planet."

"Do you know something about that I don't?" Chris asked, voice sharp. Leonard recalled his frustration at running into walls of silence whenever he tried to find out more about Tarsus IV and the survivors.

Archer shook his head. "Not much, probably. But Kirk junior does. Maybe we should ask him."

 


End file.
